Fixations and attendant Tribulations
by dualnature
Summary: What ever became of Lore? Was he ever re-assembled and re-activated? This story is an imagining of a future timeline for our favourite android villain and evil twin. Also: Is Data really gone forever? A/n:Complete now. If you like what you read, please, please review! Even if you don't!
1. Why

_[2395]_

Why had she decided to do it, to throw herself so completely into the project? To abandon all that had been familiar and usual of her life for a new familiar, a new usual? For Dr. Soong, it had been a labour of love, she mused to herself. What was it to her? And would it be enough? Did it even matter?

The project; such an ordinary way to refer to the accomplishment of something so extraordinary: re-animating an extraordinary being. Reconstructing an entire psyche, if such a thing was even possible. But she had not let that faze her. As had ever been her wont. In this she remained steadfast, whatever else of herself she may have left behind in her old life. Not even moral ambiguity surrounding the endeavor could dissuade her. Or the possibly catastrophic ramifications were the entire undertaking to fail and backfire. He was gone. _He_ was the only one of his kind left. And his kind represented too great a human achievement to simply let go of without a fight.

The offspring/daughter could have been a likely candidate, but could the child be expected to survive without the parent a second time? It just felt wrong. But some would argue that while _that_ merely felt wrong, _this_ was indeed wrong. What right did a proven murderous psychopath have to a second chance? But what right did Starfleet have to deactivate that life in the first place? Blatantly disregarding its own laws regarding the serving of justice? Subjecting a life form to extinction, even. Zahana knew this line of thinking could be construed as overly sentimental; and yet, it felt right. Besides, she had taken all precaution advised. She had taken herself offline, as it were, essentially marooning herself on Terlina III. With him.

Precaution. Pre-emption. Hermitage. All systems existed in islands. Communication systems weren't simply disabled; they were not provisioned. Absolutely no contact was possible with the outside universe. Only terrain vehicles were available. Not even teleportation stations. She existed in a bubble. An elaborate and rather old-fashioned flare-based communication protocol had been devised for passing starships to determine her well-being at regular intervals; but under strict orders not to interfere or investigate whatever happened – or did not. It simply would not do to let loose such a being. An entire planet had been considered enough to contain him. She had wondered if that would be enough?

Over the course of her time on Terlina III (3 to date), she had given in to such idle wanderings of the mind as she worked in her lab (Dr. Soong's technically), meticulously testing individual synaptic pathways, tracing down every branch in every personality-class routine to its logical conclusions, trying to determine what tripped a certain pathway and what didn't; why he was the way he was, in essence. And what had made him so different from his so-called twin. It was akin to analyzing personality development in children, translated to AI equivalents. Dr. Soong had indeed been a genius and a true student of the human condition to have devised a program so consummate in its mimicry of a human mind that it had evolved as capriciously as any human mind would. But how did he re-do it for a second and achieve results so different from the first? Was the withholding of emotion in the initial stages of consciousness key? Or was it simply the outcome of a confluence of chance environmental factors and internal drives?

What drove Lore?


	2. Consciousness

She had become aware of his conscious state some time ago. She couldn't pinpoint the exact minute. She did know however that she had chosen to go on working blithely, ignoring any perceived change in status of the mass of blinking lights before her, continuing to test inputs. She couldn't help imagining what those open eyes would be seeing. What they would be like to look at, animated. What would be his first words. To her? She felt a thrill at that, but was unsure of the origin or the cause… was it elation at accomplishment, anticipation of a much-imagined first face-off or simply excitement – and anxiety – at the suddenly real prospect of not being alone anymore. She wasn't afraid, she found. Should she have been afraid of a head sitting detached from its, as yet still disassembled body? The notion seemed preposterous… and yet not.

Lore blinked. Once. Twice. Disorientation was rapidly replaced with a keen sense of a displaced existence. He was on a flat surface in surroundings at once alien and familiar. It didn't take him long to place the familiarity. But who was tinkering with his circuitry behind his field of vision? In his late father's abode? How had he come to be here? Where was…

"So many questions." This, aloud. Slow, soft and in his usual cadence.

The appendages working on his skull ceased their activity. Someone was coming round to face him. A female body appeared. Human. Draped in a short tunic of flowing white fabric. Then, slate grey eyes. Staring intently into his. Searching his face. Quiet. And then that heretofore slightly compressed mouth formed the words:

"Where would you like to start? But first, how are you?"

She half-expected a programmed response. I am functioning within normal parameters.

"I am incomplete."

"Yes. Your body is here."

"Why am I not with it."

"Prudence. I can barely handle your positronic matrix as it is."

"What _are_ you doing with MY positronic matrix?" First emphasis. Pronoun. Ownership asserted.

"I'm trying to fix you."

They stared at each other across a divide that was barely a meter, and yet spanned the length of both Lore's entire remembered existence to date, as well as hers on this island-planet with his inanimate form, in a matter of microseconds. 'This is … unexpected', was his first conscious appraisal of the situation. 'She is alone' was his next.

How long had she considered this project of hers as an 'it'. As something to be done. What was she to do, 3.8 years later, when 'it' had come to life? How was she supposed to react? How should she treat this 'him'? As an equal, an adversary or an accomplice? As something to be feared, to be wary of? 'Someone' she mentally corrected herself.

That first conversation had stalled after her bald admission of the facts; he was able to retrieve much of what had transpired in getting him from Daystrom storage to Terlina III (for reactivation and rehabilitation) from the files she had constructed and placed in his synaptic storage… He was completely reliant on what she told him, there was no way for him to corroborate any of it, she realized. She noted with some amazement at how quickly her thinking had shifted from a calculated scientific disconnect to something resembling empathy for the disembodied, animated ('not just animated, but sentient!' she chided herself) head sitting before her on her work station.

"Why?" he asked plainly, without preamble.

Why indeed, her thoughts echoed.

"I thought I could do it. I thought I _should_ do it."

Could. Should. This was definitely not expected. The implied arrogance of the words was not lost on him, as it would have been on his bro…

"Data is no more." This delivered in monotone, in sharp contrast to the slight lilt normally present in his intonations. That was the only eventuality that would have made any of this even remotely possible. A remoter possibility would have been that events had led his brother to finally find it in himself to forgive him, in which case Data would have been the one to wake him.

He watched her lower her gaze from his at this, in deference to… her perceived pain at his loss? Was that what he was feeling at this moment? Was he allowed to feel? The thought startled him. Something was different about his thought processes. What had she been doing to him exactly?


	3. Revisits

The next few hours were spent getting Lore up to speed on the progress she had made so far; she still only understood half of what had been accomplished, even less of what remained to be done or where it would all lead to. She had an inkling that her part in actual coding was done; he would have to carry on the work, though she hoped his autonomous subroutines would take charge and guide his decisions to safer shores than where they may have been harbored, before she had interfered with his programming DNA as it were.

He seemed docile enough, content to take as much was given. His eyes seemed to hold questions that his tongue never expressed during all the time hers was hard at work; explaining, elaborating, enunciating carefully lest she let slip the secret of her knowledge of the charade. For that was what, as she spoke, the situation started to resemble, more and more with each passing minute that he did not react. To being so thoroughly, painstakingly violated.

Later, alone with her thoughts again, leaving the positronic matrix that is Lore to carry out a self-diagnostic and assess his current status for himself, as was his right, she tried to come to terms with the complications that changing an 'it' to 'him' brought. Had she really thought this through?

She tried to think back to almost 4 years ago, when she had first accepted, nay championed her current assignment. Then, it had been all about weighing the pros and cons of reinstating a known criminal vs. forwarding the pursuit of cybernetic science. But was that really what drew her to the cause? No. She had come across the case being debated in a conference she had been attending as J'ala, a JAG representative on Starbase 101, was prepping for a hearing to decide Daystrom's rights in the matter. She only remembered her mounting fury at the sheer arrogance of Starfleet in not just summarily dismissing a sentient being's right to be tried in court, but outright ignoring it. As if it didn't matter a whit. In her opinion, his own brother, a commissioned Officer, had been afflicted with the same Starfleet mentality; his reasons may have called for a temporary deactivation to defuse a credible threat, certainly not indefinite cold storage. And now, had she committed the same error in judgement in deciding to proceed with correcting what had been identified as Lore's 'processing deficiencies'?

At the time, the option to revive him in complete isolation, post-brainwash and with certain conditions as to self-determination attached, had appeared as the lesser evil, but it amounted to the same in the end; reactivation and rehabilitation. Why were they reactivating him at all? Was any of it warranted? And what did she expect, or want, to happen here, exactly? She hadn't really thought about it, she realized, she'd been much too concerned with righting the wrong in front of her then to see the wrong she was about to commit herself further down the line. Was it wrong to want to fix him?

She decided she could only find the answers she sought in Lore, when he was prepared to provide them. With this course of settlement decided upon, she resigned herself to yet another long wait, as she had when she first arrived on this planet.

She stretches out her body on the bed in the darkened room, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. She is tired after her regular calisthenics activity, something she has maintained as a force of habit. She is still fighting fit. For what purpose, she knows not. She just likes to be ready. She hasn't needed to be since her own days in Starfleet. It feels to her like another lifetime.

She knows she will dream of that life again tonight.

She walks through the foyer into the mansion generations of her family has called home. She looks around expectantly for Hermin, the butler/caretaker/uncrowned King of the place, who has been here since she can remember, one of the constants in her deliberately tumultuous existence since she enrolled in Starfleet Academy and became a commissioned Officer. She is in uniform now, blue, with pips spelling out her grade: Lt. Commander. She is on the fast track to Commander. She has just made Second Officer and is home to celebrate with the one person in the world she wants to make proud, most of all. The smell of her grandmother's baking wafts in, she turns her head to it, a smile on her lips at the comfortable familiarity of it all … and sees the coffin in a room lit by sunlight streaming in through open windows. There are no people around, the wake having ended. She collapses in a heap on the floor, her limbs entangling in the black fabric of her robe-like mourning garb. The scene has a deja-vu quality to it. This time she finds she is watching herself from outside her own body. Her face looks confused, helpless… expressions patently alien to that face. She does not know who this face belongs to. She cannot bear to be here anymore.

She has not been home since.


	4. Intimation

_[2392]_

 _Begin Transmission._

 _Attention: Picard, Jean-Luc. Status: Ambassador, Starfleet. Category: Personal_

 _Lt. Commander Zahana Shafi, granddaughter to the late, renowned Ambassador Durdana Shafi, has accepted a new assignment that will take her to Terlina III, under strict quarantine for an indefinite period. She has offered to resign her commission to do so. We are granting her sabbatical instead. The mission is classified code blue._

 _End Transmission._

The communique offered little by way of illumination as to the hows and whys of the matter. Regardless, Ambassador Picard has little doubt it will be the cause for significant developments at a later time, for him to have received it. Code blue. That meant non-Starfleet, a spin-off. What kind of mission could induce an Officer, a rising star, to willfully abandon her commission? She had been promoted as Second Officer just a year prior, and despite being essentially a Political Relations Officer, already had many convinced she would find herself in the chair on a Starship bridge within a decade.

And yet of late, her records showed erratic behavior. Her off-ship assignments had been frequent before as well, a pilot of her caliber and with her list of skills in high demand on Starfleet special missions, but now they appeared in increasingly remote, politically troubled locations, leading her to eventually transfer off her ship, the Mighty, leaving her Second Officer's post. She seemed to be searching for a cause. It appeared she had found one.

He noted with some interest that her extended stay at the academy (6 instead of the usual 4 years) had been pretty chaotic too, as she jumped from one major to another. Starting with Engineering, moving to Cybernetics (and making waves with her pro-sentience rights stance there), on to Law, then Poli-Sci, & even a Special Ops course after being commissioned. She was the consummate Starfleet officer.

The Ambassador had never met the woman himself, but recalled glimpsing her from afar at some reception or the other, flanking her illustrious relation. A cool, sleek countenance fronted a calm presence beside her often outspoken and deeply compassionate companion. If she was anything like Durdana, Starfleet's loss was great. But he found he was more interested in whose gain it had been.

Terlina III. Picard found himself troubled at the thought of it; he wasn't sure why. He recalled his own ship's encounter with the place. He thought of Data, what he had found, and lost, there. What new plot was brewing on that lonely planet now? Time would have to tell he supposed.

Data would have compiled and listed all 381 possibilities in order of probability a matter of seconds. He smiled to himself, missing his companion of 15 years as he had done often since that fateful mission in 2379.


	5. Self-discovery

'Trying to fix me, she said' he mutters to himself, scanning through diagnostic outputs. He's still in a decapitated state at this point, but he finds that does not irk him as much as being awakened in this place, yet again, being surprised as he was the first time.

The first time. He had wanted this too, hadn't he? He remembers pleading with his father, 'why didn't you fix me?' He remembers all that had followed after too. She hadn't erased any of his memory engrams. Maybe she should have.

And Data. Oh brother. What an end he had met. Sacrificing himself.. for what? What a colossal waste. The ingrate. Throwing away his life; not a limited puny human lifespan mind you, but a life to rival immortality itself. Father may have been many things, but in this, as in other physical & mental aspects, he had been generous to his sons. His creations. Lore is conscious of a prickly sensation in his eyes at this point; he isn't quite sure what's causing it until the tears roll down his cheeks. Lore is not surprised.

What does surprise him is that she doesn't withhold any information he has asked for, indeed anything that he hasn't even asked for yet but evidently she assumes he would want to know. He knows he is cut off from the outside world, but so is she.

Intriguing.

He needs to get her to reattach his head to his body. He knows he doesn't need it to exist, he doesn't even know what he would do once he has it back in his control; he only knows it as a need as primal to man as food and water. He wants to be himself again. Whole, as his creator had intended. What had father intended? Who is he, now?

He knows what his brother was trying to be. Futile effort that. Unless, the emotion chip, which Lore has found no longer resides in his matrix, had helped him to understand something of the human condition, before he … ceased to exist.

Lore is not overly fond of the human condition. He sees it as a fatal failing. And the circumstances surrounding Data's untimely demise only serve to prove his point. Perhaps, it has also been the root of his own many failings. His twisted ambition, his deep grudge against.. well against the entire universe, he imagines. Anyone or anything that would refuse to see him for what he is. Deny him his stature in this verse. But, where does this sense of entitlement come from? Was it his physical and mental superiority to other beings? Would it disappear were he to find beings superior to himself? Who or what is he?

Why does that question keep interrupting his thoughts? Lore is not used to having to justify himself, to himself.

He knows what he has been. He has always been good with that. Hasn't he?


	6. How

The days were passing in a blur again. After the spike that was a change in Lore's status from inactive to active, things pretty much went back to the way they had been. He still continued to occupy the position he had when he opened his eyes, raised on a platform that he could rotate himself to observe the room in a 360 angle. That was the extent of his locomotive ability. For now.

The 'for now' was beginning to hang heavy in the lab. It had been six weeks since Lore had been actively engaged in his own re-birth, as it were. Initial diagnostics were being followed up with detailed testing similar to the ones she had been carrying out on her own over the years, this time with Lore awake and able to provide feedback instead of the simulated responses she had relied on. For the most part, she was simply monitoring the process, watching Lore test each of his functions nine ways to Sunday. It had been tedious work on her own, it was still tedium-inducing except there was a certain fascination in watching Lore concentrate. She noted how his eye movements changed subtly, how micro-expressions flitted across his visage, all through the day between glances at her own readouts.

She knew the time was rapidly approaching when they would have to consider the question he had posed within the minute of being awake. Reassembly. It was a daunting prospect, in more ways than she cared to think about. Complex as the job itself would be, the attached widened scope of consequences, the entailed power shift, never mind how her own feelings toward him might change… it all boiled down to the question: could she trust him? She decided she would have to trust herself.

She had studied the question of what made Lore different from his brothers, other Android beings, using available information from both Data and B-4's records to build a set of accumulated matrix responses with which to compare and contrast the results of her tests on Lore's. She had decided she only needed to pull at a thread or two in Lore's fundamental coding to effect a change in the way he evaluated inputs to conclusions, not make sweeping changes in his base personality matrix. Not that there was such a thing, she had discovered. Just as for humans, personality wasn't a single subroutine governing all conscious functions; rather it was a result of the combined outputs of a variety of subroutines. Finding the sweet spot was what had taken the better part of two years' work.

In the end, she had only inserted a piece of code that forced him to reflect on what any undertaken action would say about who he was. She took care not to supply the answer to that herself, thereby preserving his ability to self-determinate. It was an additional reflex action, one that he could learn to ignore. Therein lay the catch.

She found in her studies that Data had developed something like it on his own, which manifested itself in his desire to be 'more than' what he was. B-4 had no such curiosity about himself, albeit plenty for his surroundings, having a very underdeveloped matrix to begin with. In Lore, the subroutine that led to self-awareness had manifested in ruthless ambition, twisting under the brunt of negative emotions experienced in the early period of his sentient existence. He had never felt the need to question his own motives, having once decided it was not worth his consideration what anyone, himself inadvertently included, thought about him.

'The irony is that most of us are taught not to care about what others think of us, and yet it is what keeps us in balance; the need to be accepted, not necessarily by all but even a select few. It leads us to consciously choose to temper our actions to fit-in, establish our belonging, to varying extents, depending on personality types.' Her notes thus read.

Would it be enough?


	7. Normal

Lore sat up and flexed his fingers, watching them move individually at first and then both hands in synchronized motion. His body seemed to remember how it worked. He slid off the operating table in one fluid motion, landing on his feet, and looked down on a rather exhausted-looking Zahana. 'Better', he thought to himself.

Zahana was truly too tired to care what happened beyond this point; she had run through the checklist of off-planetary escape options to confirm to herself that they were in fact still marooned here, before scheduling Lore's re-assembly operation, which had turned into a 32 hour marathon of intense concentration. He had been awake for some of it, not for others. She had scheduled naps to keep herself alert, but her body was now exhausted, her mind unable to formulate plans beyond the immediate.

She looked up from her tablet, straight into bright yellow eyes boring into her.

"Well. This is, satisfactory".

"Yes. Well." She seemed unable to come up with any more words.

He moved off, still in a smock, to change into clothing he had instructed the replicator to create for him. He did like being in his own skin again. Dressed, he turned back to her.

And found she had fallen asleep, still holding the pad, leaning gently against the desk, seated on her stool. She would fall off onto the floor any minute.

She woke in her own bed, still dressed. She fumbled for her pad. 6 hours had elapsed since …

"Lore?" She called out, sitting up in her bed, pushing the covers away. She was unused to speaking, to calling out to anyone here, it felt distinctly weird. She had just managed to disentangle herself from the sheets when he appeared in her doorway, eyebrow slightly raised.

"You called?"

She felt her eyes widening of their own accord. Was she surprised he was still here?

"Just checking that really happened." 'That I really had managed to put together Frankenstein again', this, to herself.

Lore chuckled at this and made to go back whence he came.

"What are you upto?" she asked, following him out of the room, wanting to keep his attention.

"Enjoying my newfound locomotive skills" he responded, and proceeded to demonstrate a plank pose, using only his arms off the stone-made table in the open dining area on her floor.

"What's next? Tap-dancing?"

Lore immediately obliged with a quick sketch, ending with a smile that stretched across his face.

'He really is happy about this'. Again, she is mildly surprised by the revelation. And his spontaneity.

"I've always wanted to do that."

"Really", she said, reaching almost reflexively for a bowl of milk and her favorite cereal with a pre-programmed wave at the replicator. She was famished. And curious about her new… roomie. The possibilities of her changed situation suddenly expanded before her.

He seemed to note her cereal-conjuring gesture with some amusement. She raised her first spoonful to her mouth, and caught his look across the island. She crunched. He watched. They did not break eye contact.

'So this is how it will be.' Each had the same thought. Two to tango now.

"Have you picked your room yet?"

"Why limit myself to one? In my father's house?"

And there it was again. Assertion. Ownership.

"Should I be making plans to move?" she asked, only half-seriously. Then she wondered if maybe she shouldn't be giving him ideas.

"Ofcourse not. Unless you want to?"

Huh, he seems to have thought about how the situation might change from her perspective too, once he had his body back. He probably knows by now that it is impossible to make any contact with the outside world, also that there aren't any other residential options in the vicinity. On the entire planet, in fact. She would have to build her own home.

"No, I've grown rather attached to my digs, if you don't mind my staying on."

He merely smiled at her courteously before wandering off, whistling to himself.

She stopped eating, put her spoon down. Stared out the window at the daylight outside, and took a deep breath. 'One day at a time', she told herself, in the calmest inner voice she could muster.

She figured it was safe to go back to bed, having established her claim on that part of the property. How could he be expected to know the deed to the place was in her name now, afterall? She certainly wasn't going to tell him. Atleast, not right away.


	8. Staying Calm

His eyes followed her. They were always tracking her every move. As if he was constantly mapping her responses to stimuli. She was accustomed to having his gaze follow her around since he awoke in her lab; she imagined he had little else to fixate on and so it became an involuntary habit of sorts. Or so she imagined.

And yet, she could not escape the undeniable … tension, between them, especially since he had regained the use of his body. It was to be expected, she supposed. Suddenly the balance of power was tilted in his favor. He could easily overpower her based on sheer strength alone, but then he could've outsmarted her with nothing but his head, even hurt her, whilst confined in the lab, if he had so wished. Then again, he had still been somewhat reliant on her in that state.

Now, however, the possibilities had opened up. What could he not do to her? Threaten her physically, even seduce her into doing his bidding. And yet, all he ever did was ask. Ever so politely, even if she did detect a hint of snark from time to time. And she had yet to refuse him any request. She had given him no cause to exert force. He had given her no cause to deny him anything. They seemed to have worked out an unspoken agreement; he had free reign to do as he pleased in and out of the place (indeed anywhere on the planet), as long as it didn't affect her adversely. It was no more than a temporary truce; she knew the calm could not last, the storm had to break.

Yet he chose not to precipitate it. He just spent most of their time working together watching her. Watching himself too, perhaps. So maybe she wasn't the only one curious to know how he had changed, if at all. He seemed to be unsure of himself sometimes, but that was normal for any truly rational being. But why did she feel like he needed to keep _her_ in his sight? At times it felt like a game of cat and mouse was being played; at others, it felt like playing house. But how much of it was fancied, in her head, and how much of it did he reciprocate, in his?

She was fascinating in her single-mindedness. Always careful, always pragmatic, always … in control. But never quite predictable. And so he knew, he just knew, it was too studied, that this was all staged. For whose benefit, he wasn't quite sure. But she was much more than the cyberneticist who had drawn the short straw, as she claimed. That was simply her current, assumed avatar. But was she even aware of that anymore? He wanted to know. Why did he want to know? Was it genuine curiosity on his part, or merely a distraction from the inevitable reckoning he knew he needed to make with himself. Who had he been, and who was he now? What was the difference, and did it matter?

This new self-evaluatory theme in his monologues was getting really old, really fast.

Perhaps he subconsciously perceived a kinship with her, in his predicament, more than either of them would care to admit. Each had chosen to involve themselves in determining the other's modus operandi, finding in it a measure of escapism. Each had yet to come to terms with this reality.


	9. Ripple-effect

He hooked a long, delicately shaped finger through one of her dress straps and pushed it off her shoulder, with a manner familiar enough to imply he was accustomed to this sort of thing. His eyes, however, stayed on hers instead of following the predictable route down her body to see what the motion had revealed or how much; that was what gave him away. This was about power. Not sexual need. On his part anyway. On hers… she had been alone for so long now. That was what he was counting on.

His eyes, instead of desire, held a challenge. Would she give in to his advance? What would that mean? She stared coolly right back into the yellow orbs. She had seen him naked, and in pieces. They were still on even ground. He grinned widely after a beat. This was not going to be so easy after all.

He backed away from her a pace; and she found that this, more than his sudden come-on, disturbed her. She pulled the strap back up reflexively, then put her hands on her hips, her stance deliberately challenging in kind.

"I thought you might welcome a little intimate company, even enjoy it perhaps. I presumed wrongly." He said, holding up both hands, a mock-apologetic look on his face.

"I need to be able to trust a person before I'll let them get that close," she lied. She had been fairly promiscuous when it had suited her in the past. The point was he had hit a little too close to home with that assertion. He had been her obsession for the last 4 years. He was here now. And he was glorious in both mind and body. It was no easy feat to deny a man-made God.

"On the contrary, it would appear you trust me a great deal. You did willfully maroon yourself here with me, alone, did you not?"

While she may not have been particularly discerning when it came to her companions in bed, one thing she did make certain of, that the exchange was a fair give and take and both parties wanted the same thing; usually no more after. There was to be no escape from Lore for the time being. He would certainly gain a hold over her psychologically were she to allow their interaction to proceed in the manner proposed; perhaps he thought he held sway over her emotions already and was merely testing its strength.

She realized there was nothing out of the ordinary here. He was not forcing her, merely suggesting. All within normal parameters for a very abnormal situation; throw two beings together in isolation and all manner of psychological drama was an accident waiting to happen. Holding onto the thought, she eased out of her stance, threw back her shoulders and walked to her chair at the dining table. They had dressed for dinner. Lore had suggested it. It had been a pleasant evening too. She picked up her still half-full glass of champagne and drained it, then bent her head as if ruminating on Lore's words while she swallowed the mouthful at her leisure.

"I guess I hadn't considered the possibility, any possibilities really, beyond you coming back to life." This was the bare truth. She had merely assumed that the relevant authorities would take over once it was established he was no longer a threat and his murderous, tyrannical tendencies had been subdued. However, she had not taken into account the entailed prolonged close proximity required in order to determine that the desired outcome had been achieved.

"Ah. Coming back to life. What a homecoming you make it sound like." This delivered with a hint of irony.

"What circumstances would you have preferred for your rebirth?" She looked up at him now, from where she sat, curious.

He moved back to retake the seat across from her, reaching for the bottle to refill their glasses. "I suppose that was a bit ungrateful." Charm again. He certainly could turn it on and off like a switch.

She allowed herself to smile at him as she accepted her refilled glass and took a delicate sip. "You are certainly a sight better than my brother would have made".

This she did not believe. Lore would have loved nothing more than to be welcomed back in his own image. She knew this instinctively. He was such a self-contained creature, unused to being dependent on anyone but himself. Ofcourse he would have difficulty identifying with anyone other than his own kindred. And not even that was guaranteed. But she kept her lips guarded; he was finally opening up to her.

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you." She presented her best poker face.

"On the contrary. You have given me hope. I may yet gain your favour," and the sly smirk flashed. "A game of chess then?" the solicitous host was back.

They did fall into bed together, much later. Lips locked, eyes open, pulling at each other's garments. She noted Lore took extra care not to exert undue force, to restrain his actions within limits her body could endure.

She was not entirely sure she could endure what his lightest touch did to her. The reactions he was able to elicit from her body almost shocked her with their intensity. This was what abstinence did to you? She felt her ability to formulate coherent thoughts leave her for a bit as his lips sucked their way down her throat; her prone body arched slightly to meet his on top of her and she felt her hardened nipples brush his naked torso. It was a delicious sensation, despite her low expectations of the sensuality-inspiring capabilities of the bioplast sheeting that served as his skin.

He had noticed too, for in the next instant, his mouth came down on one of her breasts and she nearly cried out as his tongued flicked at the nipple, this way and that. She gave herself to him then; and he rose to the offer with some dexterity and assurance. Sometime later, feeling utterly spent physically yet mentally still aroused, she lay wondering if she had gotten herself in or out of a fix. She was aware of his presence next to her as a still cooling body, lying very still, barely in contact with hers.

She had changed her mind on the spur of the moment, just after losing a third round. It had been a close thing this time. She supposed she had been a bit tipsy. She had had to be, to be so bold. She had reached up rather dramatically to take off her slip dress and throw it in his direction, and then left him to follow her as she made her way back to her room mostly naked. He had complied quite beautifully.

He shifted slightly and reached across her for the covers they had thrown off and drew them up on both of their forms. His eyes met hers as he did so. He said nothing, his expression mild. Only his arms moved to take her into a caress and before she could start to analyse the meaning of his gesture, the warmth of his embrace caused her to drift off to sleep.

Her dreams replayed the conversation they had had while playing the rounds of chess, and she saw instead of heard this time, how distracted he got while talking of his brother. It was clear to her that the missed opportunity of a reunion with his brother weighed heavily on him. It was also clear to her that he was unsure how to deal with his feelings of regret. When she awoke, it was with a distinct perception of his need to belong.


	10. Reverberations

As her dream state wore off and she gradually came out of slumber, other thoughts in her head clamored for attention. What had possessed her to do what she did last night? She had a nagging suspicion it had more to do with her own need to redefine her role in this tableau being played out on Terlina III than delving deeper into who Lore now was. Or maybe she was confusing the two things. Speaking of…

Lore was no longer in her bed. She looked at the dents he had left in the sheets and put out a hand. The sheets were cold.

Lore had left Zahana sleeping soundly about an hour after their entirely satisfying encounter. He knew this with certainty as he had been able to read her body signals quite clearly in such close proximity. It was what had prompted his advances earlier last evening. He had been curious to see what results the experiment would yield this time round. He found his reactions were different, more controlled. He was aware of the other point of view, and was factoring it into his responses to the unfolding situation almost reflexively. That he was still able to act on his impulses, despite his new internal compass pointing him to the contrary, was of some comfort to him. He was still possessed of his own mind and will, regardless of the human's tinkering.

Also, the experiment had been an uncalculated success. He had been able, if not to initiate intimate contact himself, to inspire it, however short-lived it turned out to be. At this, he found his train of thought jerked to a stop.

Where did he go from here? Was he ready for it? Did he still yearn for assimilation and acceptance into human society? Did he even stand a real chance with his past? And Data gone?

He was all too aware of the simulated conditions of his environ; even present company may well be merely a part of the design of an artificial existence for an artificial sentience.

Atleast it was poetic.

They had been working on solving complex real world problems akin to those presented to Starfleet spaceship crews at various points in history, encompassing everything from diplomatic missions, negotiations, First contact scenarios, battle, spy-games… Everything under the sun, all calculated to elicit a variety of responses from Lore. In a sense, he was reliving Data's life, his experiences with Starfleet. He didn't know this ofcourse, he only saw the exercises as nuanced tests of his many and varied functions.

She alternated between monitoring and being actively involved in the simulations, making them even more complex by adding an element of uncertainty to the proceedings. It was exhausting work keeping up the unpredictability required to maintain the necessary wild card status her roles in these simulations demanded of her. It was a skill she had, almost unknowingly at first, honed over the years; her career in Starfleet putting her in situations where, while she was not able to abandon regulation altogether as a commissioned Officer, she had been able to bend them sufficiently out of shape and get away with it.

She found these exercises made her nostalgic. Lore on the other hand alternated between boredom and faked interest, except where events would impact on him directly. That was when his imagination would be brought to bear to solve problems. So he was still a selfish creature; that was perfectly acceptable. What was of interest to her was what he would do given a choice between interests of the many and those of the few, or the one. They were bracing towards that kind of situation; she wasn't sure Lore saw it coming. She wasn't even sure he would read it as a viable option.

He had.

And he had chosen to simply remove himself from the equation. And let fate take its course.

Again, that was a perfectly acceptable, logical conclusion. He was not playing a commissioned Officer, he swore no oaths of allegiance to any entity but his own being. He did not owe anyone, anything. That in itself did not make him a villain, merely an uninterested party.

So what would explain last night's overture to her? She suspected it may have been an attempt on his part to recreate events of his own personal history, run his own experiment, as it were. Perhaps it was because the trauma of being disavowed early in life still haunted him. He had never reconciled with his father/maker. He had lost the only hope of redemption in Data. If his only allegiance was to himself, what would such a being do? How would he shape the purpose of his existence?

Agent of chaos came to her mind, unbidden. She smiled at that. That was what Vera, The Communications Officer on The Mighty, had called her. Words from another memory of another life.

She shrugged herself out her reverie and willed herself to get out of bed and start the day. She would send up the periodic atmospheric flare signal today. It would be the first since Lore had been reactivated.

'The world awaits' she thought to herself, then wondered if anyone would notice, or even care about the news she would share in one simple color-coded signal. Starfleet might well have lost interest and simply given up on her and her project by now, content to let two problem children eke out their existence in the safety of isolation.

Previous flares had all been white and red, meaning she was ok, and that there had been no breakthrough as yet.

Now however, the message read thus:

Green: Project was active.

Yellow: Conscious.

Orange: Reassembled.

White: She was ok.

Too early for blue, she mused, as she sent up the concerted rainbow. The white at the ending was deliberate.


	11. Attendez

Ambassador Picard was staring at his terminal, re-reading the contents of the latest communique from Starfleet, relaying the latest message received from Terlina III, sent out ostensibly by Lt. Commander Zahana Shafi. Given the circumstances however, Starfleet couldn't be entirely sure.

Attached with the message were files detailing the classified hearing that had led to the commissioning of the project. Zahana had been instrumental in the proceedings. Picard's mind reeled with questions, implications, projections…

Active. Conscious. Picard didn't need any more information.

Lore was alive.

What had Starfleet been thinking?

He found himself questioning his own motives in supporting Lore's deactivation, suddenly aware of the hypocritical nature of his, well Data's technically, actions in their last encounter with regard to the rights of a sentient being. But Lore was simply too dangerous. Did that matter?

But even now this moral conundrum was being buffeted aside in his mind by other, more urgent, concerns. Lore was loose, if he had interpreted the message, and attendant conditions, correctly.

He forced himself to rationalize, to put his thoughts in some order. First, why was he receiving the message, and why now? What was Starfleet's purpose?

Code Blue. Voluntary. Non-military.

Starfleet could not interfere. But, as Ambassador, he could. And he knew what Lore was capable of. So, he found he had a choice before him now.

Was rehabilitation even an option for Lore? Dr. Soong had believed so, given time.

Zahana had been given time. Four years' worth. What had come of her endeavour? He felt he owed it to Data, if not his own curiosity, to see for himself. He knew it never really was a matter of choice.

The next few days, Lore kept mostly to himself, leaving the home-base for increasingly long hours, saying he wanted to explore the planet.

She merely raised an eyebrow to herself at that.

She had expected him to withdraw into a shell and be uncooperative, in the beginning; either that, or immediately attempt to assert full control over the installation in an act of self-preservation. Instead he had become compliant, almost as if suspending judgement on anything, choosing to accept everything at face value. Now though, it appeared a change had been triggered. She could detect it in the readings of their simulations; it was a subtle change, but his states seemed to spike between transitions more often, almost as if he were jittery, instead of his usual detached self.

Outwardly, he didn't show it. He was civil to her, but he did not approach her again. She knew the fact that she was monitoring him constantly would be a factor driving him away from her, despite their contact. Or maybe because of it.

She merely waited. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for exactly.

The answer to that arrived quite unexpectedly, and literally, 6 days after she had sent out her message.

Lore noticed she guarded him more closely with her eyes now, rather than just the computer terminal readouts of his state. Beyond this, she didn't appear to be fazed in the slightest by his presence, or indeed, absence. This, more than anything else, convinced him she was more than a scientist. He wished, for the umpteenth time, for access to her Starfleet service record. He was disinclined to ask for it outright, aware that if she hadn't made it available, she probably didn't want him to know.

He didn't think he mistrusted her for it. There was a lot in his past he would rather no one knew.

They continued in a state of undeclared truce. And yet, he seemed to have triggered an unprecedented change in his emotional state. It had happened during their conversation over the games of Chess, the first time he openly acknowledged that he was well and truly alone; he knew he had welcomed the distraction from the personal nature of it when she changed the course of the evening's events so… singularly.

It occurred to him that maybe he was not the only one wanting to change course that night. Did his reminiscences mirror something in her past? He supposed he would find out in time. He could be patient when he wanted.

He wondered what would happen if the delicate balance they had established here were to be upset. It dawned on him that perhaps that was what he had been trying to achieve in coming on to Zahana; not challenging her so much as himself. His thoughts kept returning to Data and the choices that had led him to Starfleet; he knew he had envied his brother his sense of belonging, his having found a place in a world where he, the better, more fully human android, had failed. Was he willing to try again? Could he? He was beginning to be aware of guilt over the fallout from his past actions; was it possible to come back from all that?

He needed time to think, privately, without distractions. He was finding her presence, her unquestioning acceptance of him, increasingly distracting.


	12. Small talk

Ambassador Picard, erstwhile captain of Starfleet's flagship, was standing in her living room, having arrived an hour ago via shuttle craft that he himself had piloted from a passing Starship, which turned out to be the Mighty. He brought gifts, most essentially real dark chocolate, which immediately inclined her to view his impromptu visit favorably, if not his reputation alone.

Ofcourse her ex-colleagues had let him know just what she liked. Just this simple act of being remembered made her unexpectedly happy. Then she remembered why her distinguished guest was here.

"I suppose you've come to see him."

"And you. Starfleet was most concerned about your wellbeing, believe it or not."

She decided to give Starfleet the benefit of the doubt.

"That doesn't explain your presence here in particular."

"Well, let's just say I was rather missing an old friend, and thought I would do this for him."

They fell silent for a minute at that. She knew he was referring to Commander Data. As she studied his service record, she had rather begun to admire this personality. She also found herself regretting that she would never have an opportunity to meet, perhaps even serve under the android.

"What was he like, Commander Data?"

It would seem such an odd question, Picard noted, coming from her, someone who probably could earn a doctorate in all things Data by now. But perhaps that is what made the question all the more relevant.

"He was a great friend. Liked the sound of his voice a bit too much perhaps, but always had the best of intentions. Always curious, our Mr. Data."

She smiled at this. No list of commendations, nothing about excellence or steadfastness in the line of duty; just a simple personal recommendation. She had received exactly what was asked, and more.

She had known about the violin-playing, the enthusiasm for play-acting; the painting bit had rather fascinated her. But to find that he talked too much at times, that was unexpectedly droll. She noted the fondness with which the Ambassador talked of his departed friend.

"Is there no hope of recovery still?" She was referring to B-4, and the stored memories of Data he carried.

"I'm afraid not," was the short yet gentle rejoinder.

She pressed her lips together, then looked up as the front doors hissed open and Lore stomped in, shaking sand off his boots, looking rather windswept, dressed in white and khaki. He wore his hair a bit longer now, though still slicked back, but right now they were a rumpled mess. As they had been that night when… she stopped herself there, but the half-smile was already on her lips.

"We have a guest", she said brightly, having no idea how this would play out. She was very glad there were no weapons around anywhere. She knew there would be none aboard the shuttle as well, which was parked inside the compound so Lore would not have had any warning, unless he saw the shuttle land.

She was seated facing the door, Picard was seated opposite her. He put down his cup of tea and rose as she spoke, turning to meet, what he hoped fervently was now his reformed ex-adversary.

The door slid shut behind Lore, who remained motionless. He had heard, but he took his time registering the meaning of the words and the identity of the presence now looking at him expectantly.

"Well hello old friend." Picard offered. Inside his head, he chuckled slightly. This rather felt like something of the old cloak-and-dagger spy games played on Earth in the 20th century. Or a scene out of a Dixon Hill novel.

So much like Data, Picard found himself thinking. Until Lore opened his mouth.

"Right back at-cha, Captain Picard!" Lore offered Picard a broad smile and a wink, as he pranced his way farther in.

"Look what I found", this to Zahana, coming over to hand her a clear glass phial containing something that looked like red and white filament.

"Some men bring flowers or chocolate," she responded, eyes fixated on the transparent tube.

"It's vegetation at any rate."

He looked pleased by her interest, Picard noted. Genuine pleasure, not the fakery of a moment ago displayed to him.

"It's Ambassador now. To Vulcan. I'm afraid my days of gallivanting about space are rather behind me."

"You're a long way from Vulcan." Lore said in his lilting cadence.

"Yes, indeed. A long way from anywhere, it would seem."

"So someone has been paying attention." This, to both of them. Almost accusatory.

"Tea?" she interjected.

The shuttle did have a functional on-board communications array, which Picard used to touch base with Starfleet. Zahana declined use, as politely as she could, on principle. Lore showed no interest whatsoever, though he watched the dialogue between herself and Picard with some amusement.

He was indeed visiting with them for a few days. Unspoken as yet, though obvious, was the intent behind the visit.

She found an excuse to leave them both alone soon enough. He knew she would be monitoring him. Not exactly eaves-dropping, just responses of his positronic matrix. Stability was still a concern to her, though it had not faltered as yet in the 3 months of his renewed existence.

Picard's manner changed slightly, then.

"I'll not pretend I've forgotten any of it now Lore, as I know it would be insulting to that perfect recall memory of yours, not to mention the lives of those you caused to be shortened. What I am willing to concede, is that a man may change many times over the course of his life. And you are a man with many lives, it would seem."

"Just the one, interrupted frequently," he replied flippantly.

"Through whose fault?" Picard countered. When no reply was forthcoming, he continued, " Do you imagine it was easy for Data to do what he did? You certainly made it look easy, but have you any idea of the loneliness Data has, had, grappled with for most of his sentient life? To finally find your kin and then to have that snatched away…"

"I know exactly how that feels. Data did not".

"Oh but he did Lore. Even then. And more so later, when he finally worked up the guts to implant that blasted emotion chip." The chip was emphasized with feeling. Picard couldn't help but blame Data's actions on that fateful mission, at least in part, on that chip.

"So. Little brother finally got his feelings. Was it a happy union?"

"He had his share of struggles." Picard found himself suddenly smiling at the memories of the unexpected side-effects of that chip.

Lore found himself torn between wonder and contempt at that enigmatic smile.

"I'm not the only one here whose actions may have caused lives to be shortened."

"Quite." This was followed by a short pause.

"Just what is it that you came for here?" Lore asked, bluntly.

Picard looked up from his reverie in some surprise. "Me? Oh I'm just indulging in a fantasy I suspect; one where the likes of Data aren't entirely gone from the verse. Where the positronic men, with ten times the capability of a single human being, leading a purposeful life amongst the race that crated them, somehow enrich the human experience by their very existence."

"And whose purposes might those be?" Lore asked testily.

"Ah not what, but whose. Is that how you see yourself Lore? As an instrument … of destiny? Chaos?"

"I don't know that I see anything at all." This in a voice that suddenly sounds less like Lore, and more like Data.

Picard stares at the figure before him looking at the ground as if willing it to open up and swallow him, and thinks he does see a changed man before him. One who is beginning to question his motives.


	13. Misery loves company

They dined in companionable silence. Each lost in their own contemplations. Lore drifted off to the piano and began to play while the two humans ate; he did not feel the need to partake in the human routine. Picard wasn't to know about the one dinner date, or how he had taken to munching cereal at odd hours in the day with Zahana; she was careful never to comment on it, but in that mimicry of her behavior, she saw yet another indication that he was willing to conform, to play along in order to reach out. To establish patterns. He could still be trying to lull her into a false sense of security. And yet she couldn't help but view some of his mannerisms as child-like sometimes. Guileless in how much they conveyed unintentionally.

He was playing wistful little ditties tonight that seemed to suit everyone's nostalgic mood. Picard eventually got up and asked Zahana to dance with him. Lore seemed to break out of his reverie at this, but he didn't stop playing; instead he quickened the pace slightly, making the melodies more intricate, his eyes following their movements all the while.

Zahana was pleased with Picard's attentive behavior. Lore could see it in her slightly flushed face. They made a graceful pair. Lore played on, almost willing them to continue dancing; it was most wondrous how humans were able to communicate non-verbally, especially through mediums like dance. His tunes seemed to have been brought to life in the movements of their bodies. Slowly he grew conscious of lyrics forming in his head, and dance steps that he would like to lead a partner through, at some point. He went on playing, varying the tempo. Picard nodded at him directly when he did this, once or twice, clearly enjoying the challenge of keeping up with the changing moods of the music.

Zahana was simply enthralled. She had forgotten the simple pleasures. And was grateful to be given them back. Company. Music. Dance. Clever fingers on the keys. Yellow eyes on her. She smiled to herself, flushed a little, and kept her eyes on Picard as if concentrating to keep from tripping up. She didn't need to for the music had always carried her unerringly.

The tension in the room seemed to lessen after that; the Ambassador retired to bed an hour into the dancing. Zahana stayed back, nursing a nightcap, one leg hooked off the couch she was elegantly sprawled on.

Lore begins to whistle along to a slower tune, and then sings a couple of lines of verse. She stills as if to listen clearer, glass in hand, looking at him. When he ends, she raises her glass to him and drains it.

'Goodnight, Lore.'

Picard's being here gave her a sense of relief; one that she had not known she needed till now. She felt like she had finally gotten a long overdue reprieve from her lonely, single-minded existence of the last four years. She also felt a certain freedom to explore her own emotional responses to her circumstances while he was here; for the first time she allowed herself to indulge unguardedly in memories of Lore, inanimate and otherwise.

She relived the wonder, frustration, mortification and exultation of the journey that had led her here – she had done it. She had brought back to life the sensitive, intuitive, devastatingly intelligent and mercurial being that he truly was meant to be, in her opinion. Time would tell, she told herself, as she drifted off to a comfortable sleep.

Lore watched her walk off to her bedroom. He listened in silence, to the silence around him. Except if he tried, he could hear the sounds from both humans. He did not try. He basked in his own presence, for this moment. How long had it been just him, me and I. He had thought that was enough to sustain him, but he also remembered that this ideology was a product of painful experiences; of repeated social rejection.

This did not feel like rejection tonight.

Nothing felt like rejection in this place. Lore actually considered never leaving the planet.

He wondered how much trouble it would cause if he tried to keep the humans here with him too. A part of him recognized the infantile thought as such; another that it would defeat the purpose if he had to make them stay. Also, he was still assuming they wouldn't want to stay.

Loreville had a nice ring to it.

He allowed himself to indulge in the daydream. It couldn't hurt.

Reality could however.

He simultaneously shifted attention internally to other programs running; he still wanted to see how that red and white algae thing got its tensile strength. It's mesh-like cellular structure was particularly fascinating; as if nature had engineered its own industrial strength, stretchable band-aid.

Anything to keep busy. To keep the dark thoughts at bay.

He knew he was still seething at the unfairness of it all.

A/n: The song Lore sings to Zahana is 'City of Stars' as sung by Ryan Gosling in La La Land, in my head. Why? Because the mood felt right. Also, I'm in love with it. Also, because I can!


	14. Release me

Picard was not given to impromptu vacations; however just after a few days, this last minute jaunt to the deserted planet Terlina III was starting to resemble a very relaxing getaway. Despite the fact that he was in the company of an ex-con who was still a very dangerous, highly intelligent and supremely powerful being.

Picard had been briefed by the Lt. Commander on the progress thus far, including a complete psych analysis post activation and re-assembly. Lore seemed to be holding up remarkably well under pressure. However, there was no doubt that he was in some sort of trauma – an internal crisis of sorts. Zahana expressed a desire to let events unfold unpremeditated; to allow Lore time to come to terms with his new reality.

At this, Picard had expressed his worry that his unannounced visit might have set them back. Zahana waved away his concern, stating that she wasn't interested in shielding Lore from anything. In fact, an upset like this might be just the catalyst needed at this point.

"Catalyst?" Picard raised both brows at her.

"Yes. You were present at both times Starfleet was involved in any of his… shenanigans. You give him the unique opportunity to interact with his own past in a way that even his own memories cannot afford."

"So you encourage my baiting him?"

"I think he would disagree that he was the one being baited. You did come running."

"Ah."

"Be honest with him. Brutally, if necessary. He'll engage you when he wants to, and maybe in ways not entirely expected."

"Sounds like Lore. Very well Lt. Commander. Watch and wait it is."

She smiled back at him.

Picard told them later that day that he intended to leave in a couple of weeks; the Enterprise would be passing by.

Lore seemed unmoved by the news. His status reports, which Zahana kept constant track of along with his whereabouts through an implant in his body that he could not remove without dismantling himself, said otherwise. Zahana said nothing.

Lore was most puzzled by this. He knew she was charged with his rehabilitation, to stand in judgement of his fitness to rejoin the world, should he care to do so. And yet, all she did was subject him to a battery of tests and play chess. She couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but her opinion mattered to him. It would determine his fate. He didn't know why he didn't just ask her.

Perhaps he would. And now, this Picard had showed up, presumably to hijack the proceedings he had thought at first. But even Picard seemed to fall prey to the strange spell of acceptance Zahana had weaved about the place. He felt suddenly claustrophobic.

It was unfair. That he was confined here, while that other android, B-4, walked free; the one who was never intended to be alive for more than a few days, who had simply been a template, an empty vessel, a first prototype. Lore had found out about him quite by accident; he had been looking for more material about Data in Starfleet's archives, using Picard's shuttle's on-board comm systems. With permission.

He still smirked at Picard's surprised expression when he had asked for it. He wondered if B-4 was aboard the Enterprise.

The Ambassador would often set out to explore the surrounding wilderness, and ran into Lore a few times. Lore had fallen in step with him, silent at first. Then he started asking about Picard himself, how he had become Ambassador, when he left the Enterprise, what did he do when he wasn't being Captain Picard.

Picard was amused by Lore's earnest questions at first, but then he realized Lore was trying to explore his own options vicariously. He wanted to know what was out there waiting for him. What sorts of things led a person to become what they were. He asked about Data too; everything except that one mission.

One day, he asked about Zahana.

Picard, obeying Zahana's instructions to be open, told him of her illustrious lineage and career, and the choices she had made that led her here. Apparently this came as news to Lore. He usually kept his gaze fixed at some distant point during these walks, rarely making direct eye contact. Now however, as Picard talked, he had actually stopped to stare at him.

"I'm sorry but does any of this surprise you?" Picard interrupted himself.

Lore seemed to remember himself, breaking eye contact. "She told you all this?"

"Well no, not herself. But I am an official of some rank, and I can get hold of a lot of info when I want." Picard smiled pleasantly at the figure currently busy regarding his own feet.

"Between you and me, I doubt she knows I know as much about it." He said kindly.

Lore looked up at this. "She didn't want me to know," he stated plainly, with a sort of finality in his tone.

"Now, now. You must understand her reasons surely? Here she is charged with maintaining impartiality in an impossible situation. To disclose that she had championed your cause to you, would invalidate everything she has strived to set up here. Surely you can see that."

Lore took a beat to process this. Then, "Why her?"

"Why not? Why anyone indeed? Just be glad somebody took it upon themselves to right a wrong."

"Do you think a wrong has been righted?"

A beat. "I sincerely hope so."

They walked back in companionable silence.

As the time for Picard to depart neared, Lore sought him out more and more. He also became more and more argumentative, until one day Picard had to point it out to him.

"Look, what is this really about then? I know you can't logically be so moved by the Reman right to self-determine as to exclude the Romulans of any right to theirs! You act as if mutual harmony isn't even an option. What's brought on this sudden righteous zeal?"

"What if somebody fails to ask this same question there? Fails to seek a way to a middle ground?"

"Well then, that's why third party negotiators are called upon. It is their sworn duty to find a balance, to strike the right note. It doesn't relieve either party of their responsibilities mind."

"Is that what Zahana is? Is that her role in my life?"

Picard stopped dead in his tracks.

"You will need to decide that for yourself. Negotiators are usually appointed, not self-nominated. But tell me, what do you wish to negotiate?"

"My release."

"You are free to do as you please here."

"I do not feel free."

"Of what?"

"Of my past. I feel as if I cannot move on without some sort of reckoning. I am at an impasse as to how to achieve the same. I cannot change who I am, I do not wish to. I do, however, wish to prove I am in control, to the extent that my person may not require … constant supervision of anyone other than myself."

"Ah. Is that all?"

Lore falls silent.


	15. Epilogue1

"What gave you the right to self-appoint yourself my saviour? Did you think I'd be in your debt once you'd had your way with me? With MY positronic brain!"

The last he snarled out quietly, but he might as well have shouted it out. She winced at the words.

"You know it's not like that. You know!" She doesn't mean for it to happen, but her words come out almost like a plea. He must know she hadn't taken away his freedom. She had sought to limit it but only within bounds he set for himself. She had merely given him the tools for self-control.

"I don't know. I don't know who I am anymore."

"Yes you do. You're Lore. First of his android kind to fulfill the vision of his creator, Dr. Soong; to surpass it even. Also, the first android to suffer from a psychotic break. It's not that uncommon you know, for truly thinking and feeling beings. Especially when they haven't really gotten a handle on how to handle emotions as strong as your kind encounters."

A pause, then: "There was a reason Data wasn't given emotions. Dr. Soong realized his mistake. It was too late for you. But he couldn't wait to fix you; he needed to create an android that would survive without willfully endangering everyone around him. It was an urge he could not ignore, because he knew it was possible. So he gave him the best shot he could. Meanwhile, you forced his hand by becoming the first android to participate in a mundicide. We know the rest."

"Quite a career I've had. Well, I guess I'm not to be trusted with my own judgment. So why don't we just get rid of my emotions too. That's the best chance isn't it? For me to exist without 'endangering' anyone."

And with that, Lore turned to go from the room.

"You know that isn't true anymore either."

She spoke to an empty room, but she knew he had heard it. She hoped he had.

He was gone. She had pushed him too far. Or he had pushed himself too far. Regardless, he was not on the premises, had not been for some days. She had never felt so abandoned in all her time on Terlina III.

That brought back a flood of memories she hadn't known she had been trying to repress; in claiming this assignment and shipping herself off here, far away from a similar mansion, similarly bereft of a sense of belonging, on another world. She had come full circle.

He found her, sitting in faintly illuminated darkness, facing the starlit night outside across the window that opened onto the balcony, where he stood in the shadows. He saw traces of tears on her face. Her gaze unfocused, distant. Her expression one of remembered pain. He knew that expression. He had seen it in his own face, caused it on others in his lifetime. He found he cared about this one. He didn't know why. Suddenly, he saw her laugh. He moved.

She found herself struggling bitterly against the tide of self-pity that threatened to drown her. She would not succumb, she could not. He was waiting. He was watching. What would he make of it? He could feel emotional pain, but did he understand it? Could he feel empathy? Was he… fixed?

Laughter bubbled out of her at that. After a beat, she turned her head towards the furthest recesses of darkness in the room; aloud, she asked "How does one know when they are mended?"

"When they can laugh at themselves." Twin pinpoints of yellow answered.

"But I am laughing at you".

"Are you?"

"I am."

"Why?"

"Have I fixed you?"

Another beat. She bursts into fresh laughter, he follows suit.

In this moment, he feels freed.

She feels found.

In fact, the Ambassador had received some news from the Enterprise which had prompted his departure. He had been careful to keep that from Lore and Zahana. It was simply too early to tell. He needed to be sure.

 _[2397]_


	16. Back to the future

Picard felt a myriad of emotions wash over him as he stood opposite B-4, aboard the USS Enterprise. Or rather, the body of what had been B-4, before Geordi had implanted Data's emotion chip, which caused Data's dormant personality housed within B-4's markedly less developed positronic brain to assert itself.

B-4's circuitry overloaded the moment the emotion chip was integrated; Geordi had had to keep the android in a state of unconscious stasis while his neural net developed pathways to catch up to the state Data's brain had been in at the time he transferred the sum of his experience to B-4's net. A full 12 hours had gone by while what felt like the entire ship waited with bated breath to see what would awaken at the end of the stabilization process.

Data was unsure what he himself felt, or even what he should be feeling. The thought that he had pushed B-4 out of his body troubled him deeply; and yet, he was glad to exist. He had experienced severe disorientation at his revival, however, he still had access to B-4's memories post his demise which his neural net assimilated while he was unconscious. He had been able to glean the facts of his death in the encounter with the Scimitar from them. Now standing before his Captain, he was especially reminded of the conversation between him and B-4, where Picard had tried to convey what Data had meant to the crew, to him.

For the first time, the android felt what it was to be at a loss for words.

"I do not recall you ever being so quiet Data. Tell me, is it really you?"

"I am in possession of the sum knowledge gathered during the equivalent of my sentient existence before I was … terminated, though it does not encompass the same time period as my current vessel dates. Despite that discrepancy, I believe it would be correct to say that it is, in fact, me, that you see before you."

Data had watched Picard's slightly anxious face break out in a benevolent smile as he spoke. It seemed he was able to satisfy the ex-captain, now Ambassador.

"May I ask, why did you resign your commission, sir?"

"Typical isn't it. He comes back from the dead, and he immediately wants to know what he's missed! " Geordi clapped him on the back and shook him affectionately. Data felt a smile drawing on his own face. It definitely felt good to be back.

Over the next few days, Data found himself inundated with messages from well-wishers; it felt like everyone he had ever known even in passing wished to re-establish contact, such was the excitement generated by what Captain Riker termed Starfleet's Lazarus. Riker had turned about his ship as soon as he received word from Geordi, postponing all immediate plans to rendezvous with the Enterprise and see for himself personally the miracle that had occurred. The ship's crew seemed rather more subdued; they had known B-4 for some time afterall. Data had a very difficult conversation with Counselor Deanna Troi, about his guilt over the matter. They had found that almost nothing remained of B-4's personality matrix; it appeared B-4 had wiped out his own programming in order to stabilize the positronic brain's neural net. Deanna seemed stunned to hear that, but believed he had taken a rational decision in an act of self-preservation. Evidently, he saw Data as an extension of himself.

"And that isn't too hard a conclusion to draw, given how you and even your brother Lore were developed after him. Perhaps he simply felt you had a better chance at survival, even at a more fruitful existence than he himself felt capable of."

Deanna then told Data of her own conversations with B-4 as he attempted to define his place in the new world he found himself in, but felt unable to contribute effectively. Deanna called it the third wheel syndrome. B-4 had even requested to be deactivated to allow Bruce Maddox at the Daystrom Institute to further study his subsystems, a request Data had earlier refused to comply with. It was at this point that Geordi decided to take a risk and suggested they embed Data's emotion chip, which he had inexplicably left behind before boarding the Scimitar in pursuit of Captain Picard, in B-4's matrix to see if that would improve his ability to assimilate meaningfully.

"And here we are." Deanna finished.

"Here I am." Data concurred, hollowly.

"Now Data, don't be like that. B-4 may have made a sacrifice, but it was certainly not so you could mope around. Mourn him if you must, but recognize the gift he has offered you and value it."

Data continued to stare at his feet for some time, before rising from his seat.

"I think I understand. Thank you for your time Deanna."

"Anytime Data." A pause, then, "It feels good to be able to say that again. Welcome back." She beamed at him.

Data wished he could feel as overjoyed as his friends, yet he felt a shadow followed him around. He wondered how he would repay B-4's generosity and how he would learn to live with this burden.

"It is possible to make no mistakes, and still lose Data. That's life." He suddenly recalled Picard's words to him, a long time ago now. Data straightened his back and walked back to his quarters, with a new resolve to face whatever came his way next with greater fortitude.


	17. Onwards and upwards

Data sat at the terminal in his quarters, which had remained mostly untouched and maintained despite his long absence from the Enterprise-E. This had surprised him, but the crew had left it so as something of a shrine to the much-decorated officer, and Starfleet had left well alone. It had been occupied by B-4 as well in the interim.

He was contemplating a choice, an easy one really, but he wanted to take the time evaluate other options as well this time round. He was reminded of his father's seeming disapproval of his career choice, as well as his wish that he become a scientist like Dr. Soong. Data felt he was a scientist in his own right, his duties to Starfleet notwithstanding. He was being offered back his field commission, but not just that. He was to be considered for promotion, should he accept. He had been told, off the record, that he should expect to be assigned command of the USS Enterprise-E, as captain.

Captain of Starfleet's flagship. One of a kind commanded by one of a kind. He felt a twinge of sadness at that; that he was still and again, the only one of his kind in the verse. Did he not owe it to himself to try and procreate again? Could he not do so while taking on command of the starship? Such were the thoughts flashing round in his positronic brain, as he perused through the last fifteen years' worth of ship's logs.

Data did not find the idea of confining himself to a terran base, or indeed a starbase, to work exclusively in any lab as particularly appealing. He would lose out on too much of the real world, and he found he cherished the contact with other beings he was able to maintain aboard starships; also the environment on-board was a lot more tolerant and conducive to inter-species relations than on planet-side bases. He suspected even a 15 year lapse would not have improved things given the increasingly combative nature interstellar relations had taken on in the recent past. There was no denying the Federation was under diplomatic duress despite advances towards a peace with the Romulans; there were newer threats, and Starfleet was in desperate need of as many diplomats as career military strategists. Data felt he had a lot to offer under both conditions.

It was decided then. He looked up as the buzzer to his quarters' entrance chirped and he silently instructed the computer to grant access. Ambassador Picard strolled in, taking in the unchanged interiors.

"Like walking back in time." He smiled at Data. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Data motioned him to take a seat as he himself got up and came round to sit next to his ex-CO and trusted colleague/friend. It had been a week since he was functional again, but Picard still looked at him with a wonder that reminded him forcefully of his newness. He found it made him bashful. He was unused to so much attention from the usually stoic official.

"Deanna tells me I run the risk of making you uncomfortable with the way I have been behaving around you lately. But I tell you, I can't help it. I am so very proud of you, and it has been eating at me for so long that you were taken away from us, because of me, that I refuse to contain my pleasure at every sight of you now."

Data's eyebrows had shot up at this admission; he half-wondered whether the ambassador had acquired the ability to read minds and simultaneously dismissed the notion as absurd and the occurrence as mere coincidence. "I was unaware you felt so, Ambassador. I am glad you told me."

"Please Data, call me Jean-Luc."

Data pulled a face. A distinctly unhappy one. Picard laughed.

"Alright, Data. As you wish. Right then, I have some news for you and I thought it might be pertinent to share with you at this stage, before you decide where you go from here. You may choose to act on this information now, or later, or never. I leave it to you. Strictly speaking, I'm not even sure I'm authorized to share this with you, but if you want, I will be willing to pull as many strings as necessary to get it."

Data was intrigued by this non-proposition.

"Lore was cruel. Evil." His mother, Julianna Soong's words echoed in his head. And then Doctor Crusher's … "But that's what brothers do, Data. They forgive each other." He was unsure how to reconcile the two conflicting sentiments residing within his own mind. Lore had betrayed his parents. What could cause any being to do so, to hate so much? Data realized he had never really asked that before. He assumed Lore's mental instability was the outcome of his unstable emotion program, and that was that. But what had tipped Lore over to the dark side?

Such were the musings that occupied his neural resources after Picard had delivered the news that Lore was alive. And well, apparently. Someone, a Lt. Cmdr. Zahana Shafi, had done it. It was still early days; he had been active about 4 months now, marooned on a planet with a single human and no sign of murderous tendencies. Data wondered what it must be like for him, and realized he _was_ able to understand his brother a bit better with the emotion chip. He found himself trying to empathize. He also found that he was failing at the endeavor.

He felt he needed to find himself first, before he would go looking to save another. He felt his path had come clear and his resolve solidified.

Captain Data took charge of the Enterprise-E twenty one days after reactivation. Of the original crew, Geordi La Forge remained as Chief of Engineering. He was considering retirement now too. Data knew he would have to forge his own path and find a way to create his own social environment. He felt quite undaunted by the prospect. For the first time, he believed he was feeling a surge of self-assurance. It was his time, he just knew it. Now, to find a suitable First Officer…


	18. Needle in Hayspace

Geordi marveled at his friend's new-found quite confidence. It was rather inspiring to watch his erstwhile shy and at times even insecure colleague morph into this authoritative yet considerate personality as Captain. Data was to the point, as ever, and yet, he was careful to watch his tone and mold his sentences ever so carefully as to convey just the right meaning; both praise and reproach. He was getting rather good at it too, as the crew acclimatized to an all-seeing Captain. Geordi knew Data actively fought the urge to micro-manage everything; indeed, he could run the entire ship on his own if he so wished. But that was not the point of being Captain. Gradually, Data would come to rely on his crew as their confidence in him developed.

There was only the matter of the appointment of an XO that proved more troublesome than anticipated. Data just didn't seem willing to make do. He wanted someone with some background in cybernetics and interstellar relations, a political relations officer as his first or second officer. He had found a rather promising young linguistics expert and exo-biologist to serve as Science Officer/Second Officer. The Operations Officer and Security Chief he did not change; however, neither seemed to be able to fulfill his requirements for First Officer. Data clearly wanted a complement to both himself and his Second Officer. Someone who understood the intricacies of social protocol, and could help Data navigate often turbulent diplomatic waters. He understood the more militarized stance Starfleet had adopted of late, and yet he wished for the Enterprise to take on a more diplomatic role. He felt it suited the original Federation mandate more than merely existing for defensive purposes.

He was currently perusing Betazoid Starfleet personnel records, while Geordi sat with him in his quarters. "You won't find another Deanna, Data."

"I'm aware of that Geordi. It's just that I've come to value the additional input they can provide."

"And I think there have been diplomats who've done better without the mental meddling."

"True. However, I have a specific type in mind."

"Maybe that's the problem. And why Cybernetics, for crying out loud? Don't you know everything there is to know about it?"

"Not everything, no. Besides, that's not the point."

"Then what is the point, Data?"

"I need someone who will be able understand me, the way I operate, and interpret for me accordingly."

"That's really specific Data. What you're looking for is called instantaneous rapport. You'd need to actually spend some time with anyone to determine whether that exists."

"Precisely why I intend to attend more social events where I can interact with a broader variety of our Starfleet colleagues, just so I can avoid such situations in future. For now, however, I remain stumped."

Geordi snorted at that, but then his expression became more subdued when he realized the fuller context of what Data was saying. He had to find new friends, build a new support system. Everyone was moving on. He would need to as well.

"Cybernetics. Most of those guys prefer to stay stuck in a lab on a base rather than fly around the galaxies."

"Most, my friend. Not all."

"And I suppose you're the one to find that needle in a haystack? An officer with those qualifications who's been in active duty long enough to warrant the appointment as First Officer? Admit it, Data, it's a stretch."

"Perhaps, but I am willing to 'hold out' for a 'better deal'."

"Well, Starfleet will only indulge you for so long."

"Quite." And Data smiled enigmatically at his best friend. It was a new expression for him, and Geordi wondered if he was more troubled or intrigued by it.

Second Officer Lt. Commander Vera Lane felt especially privileged to be chosen as Second Officer, a much coveted position aboard the ship. A petite individual with a quiet demeanor that belied her rather gregarious private nature, Vera had steadily developed a reputation for quick thinking in her career thus far to merit the appointment. However, she had found very few Captains willing to take the risk of the unorthodox appointment of a linguist as Second in Command ahead of Security or Tactical. Data hadn't thought twice. Vera felt indebted to the new Captain for this honor, though she had initially harbored vague reservations regarding his capability to perform in that capacity as an android. However, she was finding that as she spent more time around him, both on and off the bridge, standing in as she did currently for the as-yet-undecided-XO, she felt a new respect for an individual who clearly worked very hard at, well, being Captain. The clarity with which her Captain detailed his preferred XO candidate resume spoke volumes of the kind of mission profile he had in mind for the Enterprise. She not only concurred with the Captain in this, but also knew of one such person who would fit the bill, if she hadn't disappeared off the grid so abruptly about 5 years ago.

She found she had grown rather defensive of her new captain within a few weeks, as one of her colleagues (also incidentally, best friend and Operations Officer) Lt. Commander Mark Cho pointed out.

"So what? He needs someone to stick up for him."

"No he doesn't. He's a big boy Vera."

"Oh you're just sore he didn't pick you as his no.2."

"Or no.1. Yeah, maybe you're right. Everyone needs a champion at some point."

"Now you're just making him out to be some sort of under-dog. He's Captain of the flagship Mark-o!"

"I do not need reminding and may I say again, you're preaching to the choir. I did not ever doubt his ability to captain anything. That was you, originally."

"Yes, well. Live and learn."

"Indeed."

'Indeed', Data echoed to himself internally. He had caught enough of the conversation as he passed by the pair engrossed in their lunch on his way out of Ten Forward to get the gist. He was used to overhearing things not intended for his ears and not letting them affect his actions, or mood. He was still getting accustomed to these moods of his but he was able to contain them and find appropriate outlets, most of the time. He was growing adept at compartmentalizing his emotions, but he had been warned by Deanna not to use that skill as an excuse to ignore his feelings altogether. They would come back to bite him in some way apparently. Data heeded the warning fastidiously. He had no intention of following in Lore's footsteps or forging a different path to mental instability.

He pulled up short just as he reached the turbo lift on the deck, and turned back in response to his number two calling out his name. He watched as she came rushing up to him, talking all the while… ".. saw you leaving and remembered, I have a suggestion for your number one. Except, I didn't know how to get in touch with her. I thought she'd resigned her commission but I just recently found out that she was on sabbatical and last anyone's heard, somewhere in the Terlina System."


	19. Loose Ends

Zahana watched Lore as he worked on his pet project outdoors in the daylight. She liked watching him absorbed in physical activity, and he seemed to come to life working with living things. He was currently trying to construct a portable, habitable structure that was actually a sustainable ecosystem, with extended filaments of the super-strong algae he had found on one of his daily excursions and cultivated as super-structures to use as building material, employing suspension mechanics.

"Need a hand?" she called out.

"I'd rather have your eyes." He responded. "Do you find the Eastern facade aesthetically pleasing?"

'Define aesthetically pleasing." She replied, half-teasing.

"It doesn't look like it's about to collapse in on itself?"

She laughed. He rewarded her with a wide grin.

"It looks like it'll hold." She finally managed.

They had more or less settled into a comfortable routine since the confrontation about a month ago. They had come to a tacit agreement; neither talked about the past. Only future pursuits concerned them. They knew instinctively that their respective pasts would catch up with them soon enough. It was only a matter of time before Starfleet's patience ran out and someone came knocking, for either or both of them.

Lore hadn't reached out to her again as he had before. He seemed to be extra cautious in respecting her privacy and personal space, and seemed to want the same in return. Zahana meanwhile, had come to the conclusion that her interest in Lore was more intellectual than visceral; she was drawn to him as a subject, rather than object of desire. She found this knowledge reassuring. It would not do to get involved too deeply with him; it was to neither's benefit. And they needed to be each other's support system right now, and maybe in the future as well. Who knew?

The Terlina System. Data wondered if it was more than coincidence that the name had been mentioned to him twice now within a span of two months. And in connection with it, the name of a single officer. Sitting in his ready room, he pulled up records for Lt. Cmdr. Zahana Shafi. He found himself thinking that if she hadn't applied for sabbatical when she did, she would have made Commander by now, given her previous track record. His Second Officer was right. She did fit the bill. But would she be willing to come back to active service? Would she even be able to?

Which question brought him to one that concerned himself; was it finally time to face his brother? The signs seemed to be pointing in that direction. As fate would have it, both his goals of finding the right XO and effecting reconciliation with his brother had aligned in a most curious fashion. Almost all of his decisions since reactivation had led him here without conscious effort. Data allowed himself to marvel at this for 0.7 seconds before moving on to the logistics of defining mission parameters and setting course for Terlina III.

Vera stepped out of the hot shower and toweled off, her thoughts still swimming around the same person. Zahana Shafi. She had been friend and mentor to herself, until events had transpired to set them on courses that veered apart. Zahana had been naturally ambitious, and had encouraged the same in her junior, Vera. Their relationship included an element of friendly competition; each had kept the other on their toes. They eventually bonded over their shared off-duty activities over 2 years aboard the Mighty, before Vera accepted a transfer, while Zahana made Second Officer.

Zahana had grown more distant before disappearing, barely bothering to keep up correspondences. Life had gotten in the way as well, as it generally did. Vera had worried about Zahana's increasing disillusionment with Starfleet, and couldn't help but wonder where her passions had led her. She was glad of an opportunity to pull her friend and colleague back from the dead now. She only hoped Zahana would be receptive to the offer, and that enough time had elapsed for her anger to subside. Zahana had blamed Starfleet's lack of respect for protocol for her grandmother's unfortunate and untimely death while on a courtesy mission for Starfleet, despite having retired. She hoped Zahana would recognize this as an opportunity to play a role in tempering Starfleet's burgeoning militaristic tendencies and prevent future mishaps. She intended to make Zahana see it so.

Vera had received word from Captain Data that they were to make for Terlina III in five days. He would not give her further details, but it appeared the Captain had another mission, of a personal nature as well to accomplish there. Her curiosity piqued, she sat down at the terminal in her quarters to review the ship's historical logs, looking for previous encounters at Terlina III. What she found only further fuelled her enthusiasm for her first real mission in command. What was Zahana up to, meddling about in Dr. Soong's lab? And why did it warrant Data's personal attention?


	20. First impressions

Ambassador Picard transferred aboard the Enterprise two days later. If the Ambassador's visits in quick succession were unusual, nobody commented on it. These were uncommon times for the USS Enterprise-E. The entire crew was busily absorbed in ramping up performance in their various domains aboard the ship; it was clear everybody wanted to excel. A conversation with any of the crew would have revealed they weren't hoping to impress so much as simply try to meet their new captain's high standards. Most of this was perception, stemming no doubt from the fact of his android nature, but Data saw no harm in the increased friendly competition and improved output thus engendered aboard the ship since he had taken over command.

Picard however, was most impressed. He could not recall such an alert and ready crew since his days aboard the Stargazer.

"Are you implying a certain deficiency in our performance under your command?"

"Certainly not, Data. It's just that that didn't feel like work; we all just got along so comfortably. This feels more professional…"

"More impersonal?" Picard thought he detected a half-sigh in the captain's voice.

"Data, this is a relatively young crew, which in itself is unusual for the flagship of Starfleet. It is but a second first to that of your appointment. There's a lot of energy flowing right now, a feeling of new beginnings and a lot to be accomplished. It's a wonderful thing to have and very potent if handled right."

"Ah, I see. You're experiencing nostalgia of your first command."

"I suppose it could be chalked up to that. But really though, I think I'm trying to compliment your leadership skills." Picard smiled at Data with unfettered pride.

Data, sitting at his desk in the ready room, leaned back with his hands steepled before him, and smiled in return, more to himself than Picard.

"I do find myself taking a certain pride in this crew's conduct."

"As you should, Data." A beat, then, "And you are resolved to appoint Cmdr. Shafi as your First Officer?"

"I am withholding judgement on that till after we've met. I wish to see for myself if she still retains the competency level required for active duty."

"I can tell you she does. But don't take my word for it. See for yourself. However, she may require some convincing."

Picard had in fact been pleasantly surprised by Zahana's general demeanor. He had half-expected a mad scientist to greet him, someone who had let go of the need for any sort of decorum out of sheer lack of necessity, having been on her own for so long, dropping in as he had un-announced. However, he had been greeted by a composed personality, in whose behavior he could distinctly recognize Starfleet protocol training, and an undercurrent of healthy wariness. Zahana had not gone soft, despite appearances.

"My number two has enlightened me as to that."

"She has a prior working relationship with Shafi, I understand."

"I believe the relationship is close enough to be called friendship. Lt. Cmdr. Lane has requested direct contact with her at the first available opportunity."

Picard raised an eyebrow at that. "We shall have to see about that."

Data nodded once, in understanding. They were as yet undecided on how to proceed with respect to Lore's exposure to the ship, and vice versa.

On the day, Data changed out of his uniform into plain clothes; a navy blue tunic over khaki colored pants, with navy trim running down the sides. Picard similarly dressed down (or up, as Data was inclined to see it). Data was aware of many surprised, even admiring glances he left in his wake on his way to the transporter room. He ran a slightly self-conscious hand through his neatly combed back hair. It was a newly acquired mannerism. He had been told by the counselor aboard this ship that it only made him more 'human' and relatable and as such, was nothing to fret over.

Vera fell into step with him enroute; she was in uniform, as instructed. If Vera was surprised at her captain's appearance, she did not show it. Data had decided he was ready to test the nerves of his Second Officer, when exposed to the unknown. Picard was already waiting with Geordi when they arrived. The three of them beamed down to the surface, while the Enterprise remained in orbit.

From the surface, an hour earlier, Lore had seen the ship entering orbit when he stopped work long enough to scan the skies. Indoors, Zahana watched him lock on to a point far off and still. When he turned back directly to look at her standing in the balcony with coffee mug in hand, she understood implicitly. They were to expect company. Acting on a hunch, Zahana changed out of her PJs into her old uniform. She was pleased to see it still fit as well it ever did. As she put on the pips that represented her rank, she felt a small, long forgotten yet familiar rush of pride.

Lore went right back to work as if nothing of note had occurred. He only stopped when interrupted by an unknown female voice hailing him.

"Hello there. I'm looking for Lt. Cmdr. Zahana Shafi. Any idea where I can find her?"

Vera approached the black-clad figure standing in the middle of a red and white stringed contraption one storey tall and about two wide, held together by what looked like counterpoint tension and little else. His profile looked vaguely familiar from afar; as she approached, he turned and she found herself staring directly into Data's face.

"Uncanny" she thought to herself, as her eyes searched the contours of a visage that had become very familiar to her of late. He was an exact facsimile except for the slightly longer hair, and yet something about the way this android held himself made it clear this was not her captain. "Lore?" was her next thought. It was really the only possible conclusion that made sense. She resisted the urge to take a step back at this realization, and continued to maintain eye contact.

Picard was following some distance behind her. Data hung back out of sight. In fact, he hadn't moved a millimeter from where he had materialized. Data wanted to handle the encounter with Lore very delicately this time round. He wanted to avoid any surprises; it mortified him to recall that Lore had gotten the best of him, atleast initially, in every encounter so far. He supposed it was a big brother thing; Data had read up on all accounts of human brotherly relations and had found the teasing and one-upmanship to be a common theme. He was determined to do better, pay more attention and be more pre-emptive in his responses. This was partly the reason why he had chosen to forego his uniform as well, to give Lore no indication as to his current designation and remove any potential for temptation.

Lore heard her approach long before she made herself known. He waited for her, hearing the slight hesitation in the rhythm of her footsteps. 'A test' he thought to himself. He had heard two figures moving, in fact. And he thought he recognized the second set of footfalls as that of Jean-Luc Picard. Curious now, he turned and came face to face with a pixie-faced human female in Starfleet garb, with disconcertingly lively eyes in an otherwise rather sternly set face. He saw the mixture of recognition and confusion in those eyes, and his heightened senses caught the whiff of fear a second later. Her muscles tensed but her posture did not change. As he held her gaze, he noted her chin only went up slightly, almost as if in defiance.

His face eased into an entirely un-Data-like grin, as Picard appeared some distance behind her. "Certainly. This way." He turned on his heel in one fluid motion and started walking toward the compound, aware that the newcomer was matching his stride as she followed.

Picard knew Lore had seen him. He stopped to grin and shake his head. Evidently Vera had kept her cool, and then some.

"I'm Lt. Cmdr. Vera Lane, by the way. Of Starfleet." She finished lamely. The uniform was quite obvious, she realized belatedly.

"You're part of the crew of the USS Enterprise." It was not really a question.

"Yes. Second Officer as a matter of fact." That part had not been obvious. She wondered how he knew.

"Tell me, how is B-4?"

She stops walking. He stops as well and turns to face her again. They are just outside the main door now, which opens to reveal Zahana, looking rather befuddled.

"Vera? What in the name of the deities…"

Her momentary tribulation forgotten, Vera shifts her gaze from Lore to Zahana, her face seeming to change in the same instant as she smiles radiantly at her.

"Glad to know you haven't lost your memory afterall, Zeze. Marko will be so disappointed he's lost the bet."


	21. Reunions

Data watches the trio at the entrance from afar. He had moved to a vantage point once he was certain Lore was safely occupied with Lt. Cmdr. Lane. Once they were all inside, he began his explorations of the perimeter. Lore did not seem much different than when he had last seen him; his manner still comprised an affectation of charm that bordered on obnoxious. Data could not help but wonder how Lore would greet his presence here. He had been less than pleased the last time they were all here. The last time. Data feels a sudden piercing anger when he remembers it was also the last time he met his father; whom he had not even known before then. And was robbed of knowing too, because of Lore.

Data seriously contemplates turning back and postponing the meeting with Lore; he can simply request Zahana's presence on the ship to make his offer. Something about the idea stinks of cowardice to him, however, so he attempts to reason his way out of his feelings. Lore lost a father too that day; in an apparent fit of blind rage, he had ended up hurrying the inevitable demise of Dr. Soong. Data found himself faced yet again with the same question; what could induce an offspring to turn on his parent in such fashion? Data decided his need to know overpowered his disgust at how events had unfolded then. He noted that his viewpoint seemed to have changed over time; asked then, he would have summarily dismissed any notion of plausible cause and termed Lore an unequivocally irredeemable threat. Now, however, time had put things in perspective and Data discovered that he harbored some guilt over the way he had treated his own brother, having deactivated him without due process of the law, essentially terminating his existence. He had answered cruelty with cruelty. It did not sit well with him.

Watching Lore interacting with Vera now, and the accounts he had from Picard of Lore's changed outlook, Data felt a new feeling wash over his systems. Anticipation mingled with fear... Was this hope? Could it be that his days of lonely existence were at an end? Data was tired of being the only one of his kind.

It feels strange to have to use names to address one another. Having been just the two of them for the better part of a year, they had never really felt the need to call one another by name. Zahana and Lore find themselves exchanging glances as Picard relates the tale of Terlina III so far to Vera, with Zahana's input. They are all sitting in the lounge setup in an open space the in middle of the first floor.

Lore pays particular attention to how Vera assimilates the information provided. He knows she will have studied the details of the events that transpired the last time the Enterprise was in orbit here, so many years ago. She notices his scrutiny. She hides her discomfort well. Zahana meanwhile keeps trying to dissuade him with piercing glares in his direction. Picard, his back to Lore, is oblivious of the drama.

"Behave" she hisses when Lore is within earshot, which is still some way off. He merely smirks in her direction.

"Over-protective are we, Zeze?" he mimics Vera's intonation.

"She's a friend, Lore." She ignores his jibe.

"Uh-huh."

"A really good friend."

"Hmm." His face grows more serious. Then, "I like your friends." And he moves off to accost Vera with drink in hand. Picard watches him go as he approaches Zahana.

"He seems chipper than usual."

"He thinks he's found a new playmate."

"I think Lt. Cmdr. Lane will be just fine."

"It's not her I'm worried about. She bites." She turns to look at Picard with a warm smile. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods again so soon?"

"Well your reports lately have been promising. I … We came to see about bringing you back into the fold as it were."

"I don't quite follow."

"Don't you think it's about time you got a promotion?"

"I'm still on sabbatical Ambassador."

"You've been at work all this time Ms. Shafi. Quite brilliantly I must say. It would count, with the right people."

"Ambassador, I'm aware of your past career, and therefore flattered that you would think so. But where would I fit in, even if I were to consider a career advancement at this stage? Who would have me? I've known as something of a loose canon right now, to put it bluntly."

"Oh I wouldn't be too sure about that."

Zahana's demeanor changes at this.

"You have someplace in mind?"

"It was your friend who recommended you for the job."

"What job?"

Meanwhile, at exactly this point on the far side of the space, Lore has dispensed with preliminary niceties of ice-breaking and jumped straight to it.

"So, how do you know this face?" He points to encircle his face with the same hand holding his drink.

"Who says I do?" she counters.

"Come now Vera. Don't be like that."

"It's Lt. Commander, Mr. Lore."

"So you intend to hide behind your uniform all evening? Come out to play."

She has to work hard to repress an answering smirk. She is saved by Data making an entrance at this point.

"Lore, Zahana, there's someone else we've brought along who'd like very much to meet you. I hope you'll be receptive in kind. Come in, Mr. Data. You've observed enough." Picard has stepped into the middle of the room as he speaks, and now looks to the balcony door, which slides open, and in steps our intrepid android. His mirror image stares back in something akin to disbelief.

"But, how is this possible? B-4 was aboard the Enterprise, not… not you!" he splutters.

"You asked about him before. Well, this is how B-4 is now." Vera chirps in, all nonchalant.

"It is good to see you too brother." Data deadpans.

Vera smiles into her glass. Zahana shrinks back into her couch. Picard reaches out to both ladies and settles between them on the couch, as the brothers face off in front of them.

"This should be interesting, don't you think?" Vera stage whispers across Picard's head to Zahana, who nods mutely.

They all listen avidly as Data explains, to the best of his knowledge, how events came to pass that led him to be. Lore's agitated state gradually transforms to one of acquiescence.

Later that night, when the humans had retired to their rooms (Picard and Vera enthusiastically accepted Zahana's invitation to stay on-shore), the two brothers found themselves alone. Data took the opportunity to broach the subject of Lore's original dilemma on Omecron Theta.

"Father created me and you in his image. He wanted us to be him, after a fashion. I guess he just didn't like what he saw in the mirror, with me." Lore looks down at the ground as he says this.

"Father said he could fix you, given time. Why did you not give him the chance?" Data interjects.

"I don't know Data! I was blindsided by my anger, at how he continued to blatantly ignore my existence, to pretend so easily as if he had never created me. And lavish all of his attention on you, the 'perfect one'."

"I do not feel 'lavished with attention'. I have only ever felt abandoned and alone. Ofcourse, I was unable to feel it for most of my life."

"That's what's saved you from my fate. Father knew what he was doing with you."

"Only because of you, Lore."

Over in Zahana's quarters, while the two long lost friends catch up on events in each other's lives, Vera is finding it incredibly hard to keep the other bit of business they are here about to herself. She settles for trying to assess just how bound her friend is to her current assignment, and what opportunities she may or not be open to. She finds that Zahana beats her to the punch.

"So, what's this Starfleet job the Ambassador says you've recommended me for?"


	22. Beginnings

She decides she rather likes this curious creature wearing her captain's countenance. She's never noticed Data's eyes the way she's drawn to these yellow orbs. Or how fine the fingers on his hands are… and that devilish grin… she realizes with a start that she is, most definitely, crushing on the captain's twin. Of all the things to happen on your first mission in command, this surely has to rank among the most awkward. And most deliciously interesting as well. Vera smiles inwardly and continues nattering on to Zahana… who is still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Data exists. She kept stealing glances at his face all the while he spoke, in between monitoring Lore's out of sheer habit, and couldn't help but notice the subtle yet marked differences in both androids' expressions, gestures and general mannerisms. This train of thought continues to run through her mind and she fights against it to focus on Vera's voice.

"So what's it been like with him?"

Zahana snaps back to the present. "With Lore? It's been fine really. Not as much of a nightmare to get along with as you'd expect. A challenge certainly, but he keeps himself occupied mostly."

"I saw one of his projects. They're both like that I guess. Good at keeping busy." Vera smiles encouragingly at Zahana.

"You can't have known him long?"

"No ofcourse not. But he doesn't take long to make an impression does he." Not a question but sincere admiration.

Zahana quirks her head to the side, wondering which of the android brothers her friend is referring to here. Then a remembered thought zips into her head.

"So, what's this Starfleet job the Ambassador says you've recommended me for?"

"We-ell, it's still dependent on your fitness test results, but there's an opening aboard the Enterprise that you'd be perfect for."

"What opening?"

"It'll be an offer you can't refuse." Vera intones enigmatically. Zahana knows from experience she won't get another straight answer out of her.

Picard awoke from a pleasant night's sleep and ambled into the open dining/lounging area in the early morning to find both androids seated across from each other, seemingly engrossed in conversation. Except, as he drew closer, he realized they weren't really talking, rather an exchange of information was taking place… wirelessly?

"Morning, you two!"

This seems to break their connection, and both androids, looking mildly startled, turn identical stares in his direction.

"Hello Ambassador. I trust you had a pleasant night's sleep?"

"I did indeed, Lore. A fine establishment you've got here."

"That will be Zeze's doing; I'm afraid I cannot take any credit."

"Zeze? You mean Zahana!"

"Do stop bandying about terms you have no business being familiar with Lore!" snapped an irritable sounding Zahana as she emerged from the room she shared with Vera.

Over breakfast, which proved to be a noisy affair as Vera and Picard discussed options without arriving at a suitable agreement; Data took the opportunity to wander over to Zahana. "I'd like to talk with you for a bit, if you don't mind," he added, looking serious and concerned.

"Certainly." She waves her signature wave at the replicator, and takes her cereal bowl, and Data, aside. Lore is still being helpfully unhelpful by providing an ever elongating list of increasingly exotic breakfast options. Picard and Vera however, are intrigued by Zahana's materializing cereal bowl and promptly set about trying to imitate her gesture. The replicator results are somewhat fantastic, to say the least.

While the others amuse themselves with the replicator, Data and Zahana chat in the lab space. A slightly bewildered looking Zahana emerges twenty minutes later, having agreed to undertake the Commanding Officer's test, for the XO position to Data's Captain, aboard the USS Enterprise.

She didn't even stop to think. She just said, "Yes", while Data was still explaining what he had in mind for his XO. Data stopped talking and just smiled.

"It makes perfect sense. And Lore can be left to fend for himself. I believe he even wishes it."

"Lore does seem to be more stable in his current form."

"I'm sure he would share the details of the changes he has undergone with you," she says, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"He has, as a matter of fact," Data says shortly.

Zahana looks like she is about to speak, but thinks better of it, nods once, more to herself than him and walks off to take the empty cereal bowl back to the replicator; where pandemonium seems to have broken out amidst the would-be breakfasters.

"This is promising", Data muses to himself. She seems to understand what he leaves unspoken quite well. As well as he understands her discomfort at discussing details of Lore's rehabilitation process with him. It would betray her intimate knowledge of his twin, and himself to some extent. It was precisely why he wanted her for the job. Her discretion and sensitive nature is only an added plus.

Data follows her back to the source of the uproar; it appears the revelers have inadvertently laid out a pan-galactic feast. He raises both eyebrows at the sight of Lore digging in enthusiastically, taking alternate bites out of a chocolate croissant in one hand and the Klingon version of the same kind of pastry, except bloodier, in the other. He takes only a moment before he settles himself at the laden table beside Vera and reaches across for some Friesian pudding. Zahana merely sits at the head of the table, composedly drinking her coffee and ignoring the ruckus the rest of the four create while they sample the delicacies laid out before them and loudly share their recommendations with each other.


	23. Epilogue2

As she made her way across the decks, on her weekly round of the ship's main functional areas, it felt to Zahana as if she had never left this world. This interstellar existence felt like home again. Everything about command came naturally to her; she had passed the test for promotion with flying colors. Making hard yet balanced choices had almost become second-nature to her thanks to her prior career experiences. The only hard bit in leaving Terlina III was detaching from Lore; learning to stop reflexively checking for a status report on the android who had pretty much been her life for the last five years.

It was Zahana and Picard who broke the news to Lore; he didn't seem surprised in the least. He was however, visibly intrigued to learn that his brother was now in command of a starship. Both humans caught the glint in Lore's eye as he ruminated on this piece of information. The next time Data appeared in front of Lore, he was in full dress, hiding nothing of his true nature. A tense second passed as Lore looked his brother up and down, then said, "Finally, the humans get something right. It's heartwarming to see you take your rightful place brother. And here I was despairing of you ever having any ambition!"

"What about your ambitions, brother?" Data had replied smoothly.

"Oh I have plans. I'm going to stay and build an empire here."

And he had. Lore was currently in process of patenting and incorporating his business; combining cybernetics, bio-synthetics and ecology for industrial scale production of lightweight, eco-adaptive, self-configuring planetary settlement gear, utilizing local produce. He was well on his way to putting the Terlina System on the galactic map. Lore envisioned nothing for his interests these days that was less than galactic in scale. Thus he fulfilled his inherent need for self-aggrandization, productively. He was running a concern locally situated on the planet, with the help of AI, imported and adapted, some self-built. He still preferred his own company to that of humans or any other species; he tolerated short visits only out of necessity. He was fast gaining a reputation as a reclusive yet highly-sought businessman. That was the identity Starfleet had agreed to allow him. He wasted no time putting the resources at his disposal to use. The deeds to Terlina III were now held jointly by himself and Data, the Soong brothers. Lore would in time come to own the Terlina System in its entirety.

Captain Data and the starship Enterprise went on to live up to their respective reputations; the sight of him in uniform, flanked by his no.1 and no.2 officers, became a familiar spectacle on Federation news feeds over the following years, and came to inspire fear and admiration in their adversaries and allies.

Picard stayed in touch with both Data and Zahana, even Lore, though less frequently. He was one of the few who had a standing invitation to the base at Terlina III, apart from Data and Zahana. Geordi, while happy for Data, refused flatly to be on the same planet as Lore, and Data thought it best not to force the issue. If ever the need arose, he knew Geordi would come through for them, regardless of his personal feelings about Lore. He was just glad his best friend had accepted his reconciliation with his brother and harbored no ill-feeling toward him on this count.

As for his first officer, even Data could not have predicted how well a match she would make to him and the ship. Zahana turned out to be hungry for new challenges after her years in self-imposed exile; egged on by Vera, she took outrageous risks that paid off handsomely. In each instance, Data had found that what appeared to be whimsical decisions at face-value were actually calculated maneuvers designed to put the opposing party in the diplomatic game being played at a disadvantage. He learned to recognize his First Officer's tells; when she was being sincere and when she was bluffing with others. With himself, however, she still carefully maintained a certain professional distance so he never knew what she was really thinking or feeling in conversations with him.

He approached his second officer one evening, ship standard time, when he found her uncharacteristically by herself in Ten Forward.

"You ready for the take-down in tonight's poker game, sir? You know you have it coming."

Data still sat down with his colleagues, a mix of officers at varying levels of seniority, for weekly poker nights. It helped him get to know his subordinates intimately, without appearing instrusive.

"I look forward to yet another failed attempt," he quipped. Then sitting down on the couch next to her, still maintaining eye contact, he lowered his voice and leaned in, "I do however require assistance in another kind of 'take-down'."

"Oh?" replied Vera, her interest piqued. Her captain rarely asked for help. Input yes, assistance, not so much.

"Is Ms. Shafi quite satisfied, here?" She noted the hesitation in his voice toward the end. He had not quite asked the question he had intended.

"Zahana? She's over the moon. I haven't seen her this charged since, I can't even recall when. She's unstoppable." She beamed at Data.

"Hmm." Data leaned back and regarded the flooring.

"You don't think so?" It was her turn to lean forward, concern in her voice.

"Oh no, not at all. The commander's performance is most satisfactory. In fact, it has exceeded my expectations, to be honest."

"But?"

Data looks up into her encouraging, empathic eyes, "I am finding it hard to establish some sort of repertoire with her beyond the strictly professional. I do not 'connect' with her as the rest of the ship's crew seems able to. Am I seen as unapproachable?"

In fact the ship's crew was rather in awe of how the Captain and XO appeared to be able to communicate almost at a sub-lingual level. Simple gestures, facial expressions, verbal inflections sufficed to choreograph ship-wide responses unerringly, even eerily, between the two. There were even rumours circulating that the CO and XO had special sub-dermal communicators installed. It was horse-shit ofcourse. But Vera liked the myth-like quality of the story and did not discourage it.

'Au contraire, mon capitaine. You two make quite the team, to hear it told by the crew. Handsome pair too," she added, off-handedly.

Indeed, Zahana's dark severely cut shoulder length locks, piercing brown eyes and haughty countenance in command somehow mirrored Data's outward android persona; they were both always impeccably dressed whether in uniform or out of it, with nary a hair out of place, nor a gesture wasted or unintended. They exuded a sort of controlled yet effortless confidence that stopped just short of frosty. And it was infectious too; any officers who had occasion to work directly with either or both was struck by how easily they were drawn in and treated as equals in discussions, regardless of rank. The number two was by no means the lesser of the three; her light wavy locks cropped short, dark complexion, light eyes and easygoing manner provided a stark contrast to the other command officers and proved a sort of balancing counterpoint in both form and function. And yet, it would be a daring and ultimately disappointed subordinate who would mistake her levity for latitude in matters of duty.

Data contemplated the meaning of Vera's remarks in silence, while Vera went on. "I'm surprised you feel there's some sort of communication gap between the two of you. We don't see it frankly. All we see is uncompromising trust. It's powerful, heady stuff too."

"I see."

"Doesn't sound like you see much there, Captain."

"Data, please."

"Why don't you try asking her out sometime Data? Maybe formally invite her to one of those boring official receptions you keep going to."

"What?" A surprised looking Data rounded on her. Vera went on sipping her refreshed drink as if she had spoken nothing out of the ordinary.

"What? Pursuing personal relationships is not discouraged as per Starfleet regulations, last I checked."

When Data did not immediately respond, she went on, "Look you're the one who seems to think there's more than meets the eye here. So why not try and find out? Is there real chemistry here, or not?"

"What do you think?" Data asks her hesitantly. He is asking her if she thinks Zahana will find him worthy of her attention. She thinks he's woefully shortselling himself.

"Data, in any galaxy in this universe, you're a catch. Act like it." With this, she gets up to join her dinner companions who have just arrived.


	24. New Frontiers

Data is left to wonder if it is finally time for him to explore new personal frontiers and try once again to form a relationship with a human female, un-hobbled by a lack of real emotions this time. Perhaps he should simply aim for a romantic entanglement at first; the rest should follow. He has to admit to himself, he does find Zahana alluring. It is strange that his conscious mind keeps redirecting itself to stored memories of her, mostly of tiny gestures played on a loop, during its restful cycles. He has experienced this looping behavior before, usually associated with feelings of anxiety, when something is troubling him. This however, is a most pleasant sensation. A sudden unwelcome thought pops into his head. Did Lore feel something similar toward her? Did he too find her attractive? Is that why she keeps at such a safe distance? He shakes his head, as if to dislodge the thoughts in there.

Emotions, he muses, do funny things. He is reminded of a similar sentiment expressed by Lore in his past incarnation.

Unbeknownst to him, Zahana observed Data sitting by himself, shaking his head. He had developed a few of these intrinsically human 'ticks'; steepling his hands before him, running a hand through his hair… things that went beyond mere facial contortions at which both androids were adept. Lore loved to gesticulate as well; but always consciously, not like these reflex behaviors Data was exhibiting.

She wondered what was troubling the android mind. That was how she thought of him mostly; a detached highly intelligent and versatile mind with a vessel to carry it around and execute its bidding. She was aware he was a person; she just viewed his corporeal nature as secondary. She knew he had a personality matrix distinct from Lore's; Picard's recounted tales of Data's adventures proved as much. However, she had not tried to initiate any sort of relationship with her commanding officer beyond the one required by duty. It was, in fact, one of her dream appointments, serving under Data. She reveled in being able to judge his reactions and interpret his intentions correctly, with a high accuracy rate so far. At times she caught herself wondering if one could turn into an android, as she was beginning to think more and more like one. But the thought of anything more than a purely intellectual relation to the mechanical being had not occurred to her. She was too caught up in living up to expectations in her role to entertain any other seemingly frivolous notions. That was until she shared a dance with him.

Data did eventually take Lt. Cmdr. Lane's advice and pluck up the courage to ask Zahana if she wouldn't mind accompanying him to the reception the Federation was hosting at a starbase in honour of the Romulan and Vulcan Ambassadors. It was kind of a big deal, as representatives of the two civilizations hadn't yet quite formally been re-introduced, despite unification talks having coming to a favorable close. The event was to mark the initiation of official diplomatic ties. To attend what was sure to be catalogued as an historical moment was an opportunity few politicos would have passed up on its own merit. Data's ethical subroutine had alerted him to the possibility that his proposal could be construed as self-serving bordering on manipulation, but he rationalized that in this way he would have something besides his company to make it worth her while. Put bluntly, he didn't feel quite so bad about dragging her along to this shindig in case things didn't work out between them as he hoped.

Zahana was flattered that the captain would think to ask her along. And a tiny bit flustered as well. She hadn't quite shown her face around Starfleet bigwigs yet; they would remember her as the 'loose canon' of six years ago, when she had been pretty well known for reasons both right and well, questionable, to put it mildly.

"I believe it will be an enlightening experience. It always is for me. And we are encouraged to bring along partners for this particular event, which is based on a format similar to that of a formal dance on Earth."

Dancing. Zahana felt her face light up at this. She slid a sidelong glance at the Captain standing next to her in the turbolift. She merely asked, "Do you dance, sir?"

"I do." Data had not forgotten his many dance lessons in the holodeck. He was rather looking forward to putting this skill to use. Then he said, "And you?"

"I do, too. I accept your invitation and will be delighted to accompany you this evening."

"Very well then Commander. I shall come to gather you from your quarters at 1900 hours. And please, call me Data."

"If you'll call me by my first name as well. See you then," She replied before exiting the shaft.

1900 hours found Data standing dressed in formal wear resembling tails worn around 20th century Earth, in colors of white and pale gold, outside Zahana's quarters. Almost as soon as he'd arrived, the door whooshed open to reveal a similarly gold-clad figure. She had her hair up in a loose twist, and wore a plain, off-shoulder, floor length evening gown that flared at the waist in A-line, asymmetric layers. Zahana couldn't resist a smirk at the unintended synchronicity in their choice of evening wear.

Before Data could come up with something appropriate to say, Zahana saved him the trouble by asking, "Shall we?" to which Data could think of no other response than to gallantly offer her his arm. He had read her thoughts in the trail of her eyes on his attire and the accompanying quirk of her lips; he too found it irrationally pleasing that they 'matched'. Later, when the tale was recounted, it would become apparent that the ship's crew concurred.

Zahana was transported with joy by the end of the evening. Data was a skilled dancer as it turned out, beyond her wildest imaginings. She supposed she should have expected nothing less when an android claimed to be able to do something. Data too, was similarly enchanted by Zahana's prowess, but even more so by the evident pleasure she took in the synchronous movement. Later, standing at one of balconies leading from the makeshift ballroom overlooking the darkened, cavernous interior of the starbase, so that the many port-lights of the quarters and docks it housed looked like giant fairylights, as Data came to stand behind her and proffered her a drink, she became cognizant of a new dimension to her awareness of him. She felt his body at her back, though he was not standing close enough to touch. That closeness recalled to her, in a rush, the prolonged close proximity their bodies had been in, not ten minutes ago. He was suddenly, painfully, very real to her and all the possibilities she had entertained, even those she had indulged in when Lore regained his body came flooding back. She felt herself blush, and was glad her face was turned away from Data.

She found herself torn between wanting to leave, to run away from temptation and wanting to stay and bask in the warmth of this new closeness, see where it led. Data was blissfully unaware of the tug-of-war raging in her mind. He was however, not immune to the effects of physical contact with her. His mind was in a state of wonder that he could perceive such physical desire. He wanted to hold her, to caress her, to elicit a similar response from her. The strange new impulses both excited and frightened him.

"I hope the evening was not too tedious for you Zahana?" he said, in a low voice.

"Certainly not Data. Tedium is hardly the sentiment evoked this evening." She responded, in a similarly lowered voice.

"Just checking." Data retorted mildly.

She turns round to favor him with one of her rare smiles. He acts on an instinct he has scarcely known he possesses and leans in, bringing his face closer to hers. Her smile vanishes, but she does not pull back, just lifts her chin slightly. He puts his lips on hers. They kiss. He tries to draw back after a few seconds elapse, but she pulls him back in, her lips insistent on deepening the kiss this time. He experiences what is to be only the first of many such thrills to come.


End file.
